senate Lnderes ‘EDINBURGH REVIEW,
JANUARY 1803.
NO, Ii.
Art.I. Philosophie de Kant, ou Principes Fondamentaux de la Philosophie Transcendentale, &. The Philo of Kart, or, the Fundamental Principles of ‘Transcendental Metapiny- sics: By Charles Villers, Fellow of the Royal Society of Sciences of Gottingen. One large volume 8vo., Metz, 1801. Sold by De Boffe, London.
OW EVER numerous the states, into which the great boun- daries of nature, or the commerce of policy and of the sword, have divided the human race, it has been a customary form. of thought to consider the sciences as refusing every graphical barrier: and we have heard of the republic of letters, till we almost believe it to exist. Amid those desolating hostili-
ties, which represent man only as the enemy of man, there is.a relief,in this innocent cosmopolitanism, that atones in some de- gree the violence of national animosity ; and we willingly forget, that the great Republic, one and indivisible, has in truth almost as many divisions, with mutual jealousies and mutual ignorance, as the political relations which it comprehends. [tis not mere- ly for the works of the immortal Ilixof/ou, as in the apologue of Goldsmith, that a traveller from the Chinese wall may ask in vain. There are in every country names as illustrious, which have been stopped, in the progress of their glory, by the unfortunate posi- tion of a mountain or a river; and though we will net say with the commentator of Kant, that it is as difficult for any good book, as for the whole Austrian army, to effect the passage of the Rhine, a system of metaphysics, we will readily allow, is of almost as dif- ficult transportation; nor would it have surprised us more, had the head-quarters. of the Archduke Charles been fixed at Paris, than if, in persevering attendance, on the sage of Konigsberg, the experimentalists of the institute had abandoned their phy- sics, and the gayer literary assemblies, their romances and their cpigrams, for the study of transcendentai esthetics, and all the refinements. and abstractions of pure reason. The tardiness with which the discoveries of Newton, so simple, and so important, and so readily corresponding with the general habits of science, theo
254 Villers, Philosophie de Kant.
were adopted in that large province of the literary ic i ‘iomediate nei oy age! known; neg feel no astonishment, glory of illuminating aay gg in purisms and supersensibles, should have been reserved for M. Charles Villers, in the 9th year.
Of the very doubtful reception which awaits a work, on a sub- ject so little in unison with the habits of Parisian literature, its author is fully aware. The nature of those habits he discusses at t length, and contrasting them with the more me i- pn of thought which prevails on the opposite raat eg Rhine, attempts to explain the difference by the foree of literary primogeniture. Philosophy and the belles-lettres still assert their
uliar claim, where the rights of each were earliest allowed. Sb the inquirer into causes and effects came in late succession to the poet and the novelist; in Germany, the poet and the novelist succeeded the sage. The one country had al- ready produced works of elegance, which were valued as classics by all Europe, when, to the greater number of its writers, the sciences were almost unknown. These formed the glory of more northern states, which could boast of eminence in every branch of philosophy, when, in literature, their praise amounted only, to length of commentary and extent of erudition. We fear, how- ever, that an explanation of this kind rather admits the difficulty, than removes it. We are told to look back to a distant age, but we gain no light from the review; for, if we must admit a great- er tendency im France to the belles-lettres than to the severer studies, it is as casy to admit it without a cause at present, as at any former period ; and if any other cause exist, it is.absurd to ascribe the difference to mere chronologic dates. Celebrity will, indeed, excite to imitation ; but the celebrity must have been first acquired. Nor, if it were trne that the genius of a nation could be traced to its ancient fame, would.a French metaphysician have much to dread. He would address a people, whose early habits were similar to his own, who, in the ages of scholastic glory, as M. Villers himself confesses, attracted the disputants of every nation, by the exquisite subtilties of their own distinguished schoolmen, and who aspired to the empire of the gayer and soft- er feelings, only after they had perplexed, in idle, but ingenious controversy, the profoundest thinkers of Europe.
The fact, however, whatever be its cause, is certain. It is not in France, in its present sensualism of taste, that the love of abstract metaphysics can speedily be revived ; and there is rea- son to fear, that even in England, the reproach, if it be allowed to be 2 reproach, is in a great measure deserved. We are, in- deed, less disposed to ridicule a science, because it is necessarily subtle, and has often been abused in fantastic refinements ; but we are content to be dully indifferent, and can hear of a system
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1903. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 255
which has divided into patrons and opposers the whole thinking part of a large empire, without any public curiosity to become acquainted with its merits, or to know enough, even of its im fections, to comfort ourselves with the certainty that our
of it has been deserved.
The illustrations which we are about to review, are dedicated to the National Institute of France, ‘as the Tribunal invested with Supreme Jurisdiction in the Empire of the Sciences,’ Since the laterevival of Roman titles, by the consuls, senators, and pre- fects of the French, we have been so much accustomed to magni- ficence of official designation, that we are not astonished at any a which may be assumed within the outline of theirown map.
t when, ina work of strict science, the author becomes so - poetic in his adulation, as to raise imaginary empires, and give away their best offices to any patron who may choose to counte- nance his book, we cannot refrain from asking him, by what com- mission he has derived that right? The supreme jurisdiction of the sciences, it certainly is not in the power of M. Villers, or of his bookseller, to bestow; and the nomination does not come with a very good grace from him, who has s a large part of his work in ing, that the French are any thing but men of science. It is but am awkward and unfriendly dilemma, to which the great. theorist is reduced by his foreign commentator. He must either
receive the Some of a society, which confessedly has yet he
to acquire the habits of abstraction necessary to the just - ciation of his doctrine, or, if he do not receive it, he must submit to see that doctrine condemned by the supreme court of Science, from whose decision there is no appeal.
In a long preface, some partic are given of the life and works of the philosopher of Konigsberg. He is represented as having never withdrawn, in a life of nearly eighty years, from his native city, contenting himself, in the true simplicity of 2 sage, with the occupations of study, and the society of a few fa- vourite friends, 1t is not merely as a metaphysician, that he claims to be considered; for there is scarcely a science which he has net endeavoured to illustrate. ‘ He is ametaphysician, an astronomer, a chemist: in natural history, in physics, in physiology, in history, in languages, and literature, and’ the arts; in all the details of geography, as they relate to the exact situation of the parts of the globe, their inhabitants and productions—every thing is familiar to him. His commentator, zealous for his fame, contends that the planet Hersched/ ought rather to have been known to aatrono+ mers under another name; as, twenty-six years before the disco- very of that portion of our system, its existence had been predicted by Kant, insome ‘ conjectures on the heavenly bodies which pro- bably exist beyond the orbit of Saturn,’ published in 1755, in a work entitled ‘The natural history of the world, and theory of the
R 4
256 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jam,
heavens, on the principlesof the Newtonian philosophy.’ His con- jecture was founded on the progressive increase of eccentricity in the orbits of the planets, according to their distance from the sun ; from which he conceived it necessary to'the harmony of the system, that, to prevent the sudden disproportion, there should be other orbits of progressively increasing eccentricity between Sa- turn and the least eccentric of thecomets. ‘The first traces of that metaphysical system, which has given such celebrity to his name, are to be found in his inaugural dissertation De mundi sensibitis at- que intelligiirtis forma et principis, written in 1770, when he was appointed toa professorial chair in the university of Konigs- berg. But it was in 1781 that the full development: of its princi- ples appeared in his * Review of pure Reason. ‘This celebrated work was nearly six years published, before its importance was at alf understood : and it is perhaps one of the most striking instances of the reverses of literary fortune, that the bookseller by whom it was published, was about to destroy the copies as waste paper, when a sudden demand required and exhausted rapidly three new editions. The doctrine was soon presented, under innumerable forms, by a multitude of commentators; among theearliest and most distinguished of whom were Rhinheld, the son-in-law of Wieland, and the mathematician Schulze. Of itssubsequent for- tune, it is needless to speak. ‘Phough we know little more of Kant, we at least know, that his system had, in almost every phi- losopher in Germany, either an avowed partizan, or an avowed antagonist: but the English reader, better acquainted with the poets of that country than with its philosophers, will be surprised to learn, that he has enjoyed the benefit of this ponderoussystem, even in the lightest of his readings. With Schiller and Gothe we are all acquainted; and Schiller and Gothe are adduced as in- stances of poets, who have made to their delightful art ‘a happy application of the principles of the transcendental philosophy.’ e wish that the nature of this application had been more par- ticularly pointed out ; for to. us the study of mathematics appears as well fitted for giving poetic inspiration, as the study of the categories. To think with passion, we must have adopted an ex- ternal world, and diffused animation over it It is the empirical and transcendent philosophy, therefore, which alone ean suit the t; and these are the very systems which it has been the la-
aod endeavour of Kant to overthrow. We shall now eed to give a short view of the opinions of this celebrated ist ; at the same time premising, that we * The German title of this work is critik der reinen ; and the system it contains is commonly known under the very alsurd name of the critical philo- phy, which, at least to an ee reader, is very little significant of the peculiar ed to denote. The self-reviewing philosophy would
a it is inte ve been a term more diagnostic. But the other term has now almost preserip- tive right ; and we have therefore retained it in the discussion which follows.
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1903. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 957
are unacquainted with bis eriginal works, and that the justness of our sketch, and consequently of our own. objections, must therefore depend wholly on the fidelity of his expositor. ‘To
this short view, from the work before us, has beena task of no easy labour: for M. Villers, probably in the hope of gain- ing over the lighter fancy of his countrymen, has-had little mercy for the methodical habits of sober and contented investigation. In his preliminary remarks, which occupy much more than half the volume, he has thought it necessary to intermix, with short and broken portions of the system, a perpetual episode of decla- mation on every incidental subject. There is no attempt to de- velop, in regular order, the parts of a great whole. After being made acquainted with the divisions of empiricism and rational- ism, and the superiority of transcendental views, weare ledaway, by a simile or a metaphor, to the crimes of mobs, and envyclope- dists, and guillotines ; to the saving virtues of the armies and’ the emigrants; and to the still more powerful atonement of that great* Apollo of the Thuilleries, by whom the Python of Jacobinism was slain. ‘lo many of these digressive passages, it is impossible to deny the praise of that diffuse species of eloquence, which often pleases us, in the allusions to the same period of dreadful interest, that are interspersed in the later writings of Laharpe. In litera- ture, however, we can read, and pause, and return. But in-a work of severe investigation, which professes to introduce-us toa new system of the principles of all human knowledge, a simple statement of the doctrines it includes, in that exact and regular series in which they rise from each other, would, to.us, have been much more satisfactory, then ali the ornaments which the richest and most rhetorical imagination could supply.
Philosophy, in relation to the process which it adopts, is con- sidered by Kant as of three kinds. It is dogmatical, whem it founds a sysiem on principles assumed as certain ; sceptical, when it shews the insufficiency of those principles which the dogmatist has assumed ; and criteca/, when, after adopting the objections of the sceptic, it does not rest satisfied with doubt, but proceeds to inquire, from what principle of our nature the illusions of the dogmatist have arisen, and, by a minute analysis of the cognitive powers of man, traces the whole system of his knowledge through all the modifications of its original e/ements, by his independent and fundamental forms of thought. It is in this analysis, that the spirit of the critical philosophy is to be found ; and till the pro-
* Période de seen: ened et d’inhumanité, d’o& devaient résulter tous nos maux! Limon infeet od devait prendre naissance le Python jacobin '—Mais res- irons celui qui devait le terrasser a paru. Les maurs, la padeur et les chaste ee retrouvent en lui lour sontien; et antique Apollon de Vart, arrivé an méme tems sembie n’étre qu’an symbole dans la capitale dela France. p. 165.
258 Villers, Phatosophie de Kant. cess have become familiar, the whole system must
arly unintelligible : but their objective and we may still be menclature, we are to discover, through the veil that is cast over us, those dim ideas which were present to the author's mind. According to Kant, then, it is necessary, in investigating the principles of knowledge, to pay regard to the two sets of laws, on which the nature of the object and of the subject nds. It is from their result, as directing the influence ae perceived, as directing the susceptebrlittes of the that knowledge, which is thus in every instance compound, ariees : and this compound of objective and subjective elements might be modified equally, by the change of either set of laws ; as the im- of a seal may be varied alike, by a change of figure in the gem, or by a difference of resistance in the parts of the wax, which are exposed to its pressure. The subjective elements are by Kant denominated forms ; and each function of the mind has its peculiar forms, with which it invests its objects, uniting with them so intimately, as. to render apparently one that feeling, which cannot exist but as combined of different elements. No- thing therefore is known to us, as it is: since we acquire the knowledge of an object, only by the exertion of those laws, which necessarily modify to us the real qualities of the object known. Philosophy, therefore, in relation to its belief of exter- nal things, is empirical when it believes them to exist exactly as they appear to us in each particular case ; it is transcendent, when, using reason to correct the false representation of the senses, it be- lieves that the objects of our senses exist in a manner rea/(y known to us, after this correction, though different from their immediate appearance in particular cases. In both these views it has relation only to their objectzvity, or to their qualities as independently ex- isting in themselves ; and is therefore erroneous, as those quali ties cannot be discovered by us. It is transcendental, he con- sidering them in relation to our own powers, it investigates the subjective elements, which necessarily, in the exertion of our in- dependent laws of cognition, modify the qualities or elements of the object as perceived. Since it is thus impossible to know the world as it is, we must content ourselves with the knowledge of the phenomenal world, and with that reality which is merely sub- Jjectwe. The system of our world is thus idealism, but an idealism in which we may safely confide ; though we must be assured of err- ing, whenever we ascribe to it objective certainty. There exists, however, an independent system of nowmena,* or things tn them-
* This word is evidently an abbreviation of the °Greek ©», which in our opinion, would be much more applicable to external things, after they had under-
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selves, though we cannot know them as such, from the unavoid-
able modification of every objective element, by our own forms of
ition. ‘Fo.determine what is subjective in each peculiar per- sudject must be investigated. Thi
This sub-
which is in some measure intermediate, being neither wholly practical, but determining to action, and thus forming the bond of our knowledge and our will.
Pure cognition is divided into pure sensibility, pure * intelli- gence, and pure reason ; the products of sensibility being sensa- tions, the products of intelligence conceptions, and the products ofreason ideas, This division is not inconsistent with the abso- lute fundamental unity of the cognitive being, that unity, of which we are conscious in all the diversity of our feelings, and without which we could not exist. ‘The threefold action is even in some measure aided by the unity itself ; for, from a law of our nature, we strive, by a perpetual synthesis of comparison and arrange~ ment, to bring the diversity of our sensations, a8 nearly as possi- ble, to the oneness of which we are conscious in ourselves.
Pure sensibility, comprehending all those feelings in which space and ¢ime are involved, is external, when it refers them to space, and internad when it refers them to time. In itself nothing is arger or smaller, or before or after ; for space and time, the forms of sensibility, by which a subjective world arises to us, are not, in any degree, objective and real, but are modes of our owa existegce as sentient beings. It is impossible for us to imagine any body, which does not exist in space : it is impossible for us to imagine any feeling which does not exist in time. With the abstraction of these, every thing to us perishes ; but the certain- ty of space and time remains with us, though every object were conceived to be annihilated. Hence, space is an indispensable condition of the possibility of bodies, but bodies are net necessa- ty to the ibility of space. That it exists in ourselves @ pri- ort, and independently of experience, is shewn by the impossi- bility of acquiring it from without. Space includes three dimen- gone the forms of our cognition. If the terms must be adopted, we should be in- clined to reverse the use of them, and call a phenomenon whatever affeets the external scusibility, and zeymena the subsequent com of perception,
* The o,iginal term is verstand ( entendement_) which may be more simply transliited ricer oteinding ; but the term we have chosen, which is merely the Latin eorresponding word with an Kinglish termination, however singular its use may at first appear, is preferred by us to its more common synonym, from the very circumstance that it is less common. In the use of a term to which we have
long accustomed, there is much danger of error, when the limitation of ite meaning is not precisely the same, and uaderetanding, in its usual acceptation,
‘8 significant, not of a single function of the mind, as in the transcendental voeg-. valary, bat of the anion e all the intellectual faculties, .
260 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. — Jan.
sions. Sight, smell, taste, hearing, are evidently i of af- fording these : nor is touch, to which Condiline enitea ak gin, more susceptible. We gain the idea, says he, when our hand passes. over a surface ; but he has already a surface and a hand ; and what resemblance is there of a simple
to a body of three dimensions ; nor can space be supposed to a- rise from abstraction, for by abstraction we separate only simple qualities : but space is not a simple quality, capable of being per- ceived separately in bodies; it is the necessary condition of their existence, implied, in the first perception of the infant, which supposes an object external to itself. in every sensation there must be elements both objective and subjective : the subjective must be permanent as ourselves, the objective fleeting as the oc- casion. Space, therefore, being invariably present amid ail the apparent changes of quality, is subjective in us; occasioned in- deed by the sensation, and rising zn it ; but not an objectite part of it, depending on experience. If that were its origin, we should be allowed to conclude, only, that all the bodies yet known to us are extended, and not that all bodies must have extension. Yet the certainty of this we believe with equal force ; since, space be- ing a subjective condition of knowledge, we feel that every im- pression, by a law of our nature, must be invested with its form. On this, the apodictic or demonstrative certainty of geometry de- pends : for, as pure space is the form of the external sensibility of all men, the extensive properties of pure space must, to all men, be the same. It is a peculiar distinction of mathematical ideas, that they consider not intensive but extensive qua/ties, all the degrees ef which are equally capable of being rendered sensible. so as to correspond exactly with a sensible object. Of degrees merely intensive, as of the varieties of force in physics, and of benevo- (ence in ethics, no delineation can be given
The internad sensibility, by which we discover our own mode of being, with all the changes that take place within us. gives us the idea of time, in the succession in which it represents to us our feelings. All the arguments which prove space to be a form of our cognition, are equally applicable to time. By this, we invest our internal affections with succession, as we created to ourselves a subjective world by the investiture with space. From succession we derive our idea of number ; and time being, like space, an uni- versal form, the apodictic certainty of arithmetic is easily ex- plained.
If we had sensibility alone, the world would be merely a num- ber of detached beings ; it would not be that great whole which we callnature. This is produced to us by intelligence; that power, which, receiving the products of sensibility, establishes their re-
ions, and arranging them in classes, forms conceptions. As. in sensation, there are the necessary forms of space and time ; so are there necessary forms of intelligence, to which Kant, adopting the
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well-known term invented by Aristotle, gives the name of catego- ries. These are reduced to four orders ; quantity, quality, rela- tion, and modality: To the first of which belong the categories ; }. unily; 2. plurality ; 3. totality: To the second, 4. affirma- tion or reality ; 5. negation or privation ; 6. limitation : ‘To the third, 7. substance and accident; 8. causation, or the laws of cause and effect ; 9. reciprocity of action and reaction: ‘Yo the fourth, 10. possibility and impossibility; 11. existence and non- existence ; 12. necessity and contingence. No act of intelligence can take place without the union of these four forms of thought, in some one of their modifications.. Like space and time, how- ever, they are no part of the object, but exist a priori, and inde- pendently of all experience in the subject who inte/éigizes. Thus, to take an instance from the categories of quantity, the idea of number cannot form a part of any object. We hear a sound ; we again hear'a sound; but, when we say that we have heard two sounds, we have invested a product of sensibility with a form of our own intelligence. ‘These fundamental conceptions may be combined, so as to form other conceptions equally independent of experierice ; as when, from substance and causation, we derive the conception of force; or they may be united with the pure forms of sensibility ; as when, from the addition of temporary succession io existence and non-existence, we form the conception of com- mencement. For determiniag to which of the categories our sen- sation belongs, there are four forms of reflection, corresponding with the four orders : for the first, identity and diversity ; for the second, conformity and contrariety ; for the third, intertority and erteriority, by which is meant the distinction of the attributes of an object as originally existing in itself, or as acquired from with- out; for the fourth, matter and form. These four reflective con- ceptions, though like the categories, existing a prtor7, differ from them, as not being applied to the products of sensibility, to fix their relations and mode of being, but to the conceptions of objects, to fix their appropriate place in the system of our knowledge. Pure reason is the third mode of our cognitive faculty. It is applied to our conceptions, and is that which considers them as ab- solute. Its three great tdeas are, absolute unity, absolute totality, and absolute causation. These become objects to us, or ideals of pure reason, by investing them with our own felt and fundamental unity ; which individualizes absolute unity, as in the Auman soul, or absolute totality as in the untverse ; and the ideas acquired from practical reason, of absolute power and goodness, are, in like man- ner, individualized in God. Every act of reasoning implies an ab- solute idea. ‘Thus, when we say, af bodies gravitate, und the air, being a body, must therefore have on the validity of our con- clusion depends on the universality of the major proposition. To
262 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. ‘i.
these absolute ideas we are led, by an irresistible impulse of our nature towards infinitude. ‘They are forms existing a priori in the mind; for our senses give us the perception only of that which is divisible, limited, caused. With the unity of the human mind, or the infinity of the universe, or the great source of phe- nomena! nature, so corporeal organ can make us acquainte Each of the cognitive functions having thus its peculiar forms, we are guilty of an amphiboly, when we ascribe to oné the forms of another; as when, in the material atems of the phi phy of Epicurus, we invest our external sensations with the-idea of absolute simplicity ; or when, adding to the same sensations the absolute idea of causation, we erect a theory of atheistic mate- rialism. In like manner, the combination of absolute ideas with our internal sensibility, ‘ of which the form is time, and the ge- neral representation spirit,’ gives rise to all those systems of spirit- ualism, which suppose a simple, unextended soul. The ing controversies on the divisibility of matter, are the product of a double amphiboly, which confounds sensation and conception. The preceding summary comprehends the laws of i But man does not exist to know alone. He wills; he acts; he is the subject of practical reason. ‘The knowledge of his powers.and his duties, he cannot acquire from external impressions on his sensibility, from any arrangement by his intelligence of the pro- ducts of his sensibility, nor from the addition of the forms of pure reason to the conceptions of his intelligence. But man is known to himself by consciousness. All other beings he knows only sub- jectively. Himself, however, the sole exception in nature, he knows in objective noumenal reality. He has not, therefore, te reason, or apply those forms which belong to his ions. He has only to observe his own nature ; and in it he feels that he possesses freedom of volition, because he feels that he is able to will: he recognizes a principle of duty which commands him, under the certainty of future responsibility, to act or to abstain. There are two imperious voices wach sar a Eee virtuous. In many cases, it is.impossible to obey both. the one is a voice of more rigid command than the other. It says not, if thou wilt, ef thow can, like that which bids him be happy : it pronounces with legislative authority, thou oughtest, thou must ; and self-cont , and self-esteem, are the immediate puni and reward with which it sanctions its will. His , how- ever, is not constrained. He may to duty the which are more immediate ; but, in daring to disobey, he has al- ready begun to endure the penalty. The duties commanded by this internal voice, are reduced vy Kant to two maxims: Regard constantly every reasonable being as an end in himself, and not as a mean of benefiting others ; and act in such @ manner, that
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the immediate motive o, will might,* with advantage, be- peepee nt, ty 4 vannnnghebeaiientte te ings. These-laws exist a prior: in the mind ; and, therefore, are not subject to the laws of cognition. At the same time that we are conscious of their force, we discover the necessity of future reward and punishment, and, confident of immortality, ‘ we feel, in the sanctuary of our being, that, quitting this phenomenal world, we shall find virtue and iness united in the world of things in themselves.’ To ity, it is necessary thagthere should bea judge. ‘This judge has absolute goodness ; because from him, our ideas of the just and good proceed. Since all finite reasona~ ble beings have the same practical reason, there must be a su- preme universal infinite reason, which, manifesting itself to all, announces the same laws. ‘ This supreme reason, this absolute goodness, this judge, the rewarder of virtue, is God : not, indeed the God of speculation, whose existence may be asserted or denied arguments of equal force. He is not the result of the ratiocina- tion of man. ‘ He does not need to rest on the two ises of a syllogism, as the colossus of Rhodes steod ele on its pe- destals of rock.’+ He is the true God, of whom no argument can deprive us; because, not having his origin in cognition, he is not subject to its forms ; a God who is not eternal, not in space, not in tame, not a substance, not a cause, and of whom it is not less absurd to say that he eaists, than to say that he is blue or square. In this shor t view of the principles of ‘Transcendentalism, we have endeavoured, ee ete eee ofnew terms. Of these its author has been profusely li ; and to them he is probably indebted for a large share of that fa- vour which his system has received. In minuteness of nomencla- ture, there is an appearance of nice distinction, whieh prepos- sesses us with respect for the acuteness of the inventor’s powers : and as, in the infinity of objects which present themselves to our observation or fancy, the resemblances and dissimilarities are in- finite, there are no bounds to the multitude of classes in which they may be arranged. ‘The resemblances in a new system are, , as real as-in those. which preceded it ; and we there-
fore think that we have made a large accession to our knowledge, because, by a new analysis and synthesis, we have combined the results of our former experience in a varied collection of terms.
Pn A MN RN RR TN clature, our opinion is very different from of the admiring disciple, who now offers thems to our veneration ; and we are par-
* We have added the words with advantage. In the original, it is merel be such as to become an universal law ( fruisse devenir_), which, if it be mot liptical, is wholly unintelligible.
; Hn’a pas besoin des deux prémisses d’un Le og se se tenir debout, wmmre le colosse de Rhodes appuyé sur ses deux ers, P. 159.
264 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
ticularly astonished, that, in the country of Leibnitz, their cele- brity should have been so great. We seein them a forced com- bination of jarring principles, rather than a perspicuous and ana- lysing originality of reflection. The self reviewer, who
to examine with accuracy the first elements of his belief, doubts and asserts on the same principle ; and, after having overturned the dogmatism of others with the most unbounded scepticism, and raised dogmatism anew, on the loose materials of that foun- dation whichthis scepticism had overthrown, he thinks that he has avoided the objections which may be urged against both, be- cause he has given a new name to the combination of the two, In this manner, he has indeed made a partial attack more diffi- cult, because he can intrench himself at will in either system: but his theory is not the less incoherent and feeble, when assail- ed as a whole. The merit of Kant appears to us to consist less in invention, than in occasional deductions from the opinions of others. It is that part of his system which may be considered as a commentary on the innate susceptibilities of Leibnitz, for which alone we consider the world as indebted to him: and perhaps, in the t circumstances of philosophy, even the extravagant length to which he has pursued a just principle, may heve been of favourable influence. Against the more inviting system of sensualism, in which all knowledge is supposed to consist of ori- ginal impressions from without, or of abstractions or new com- binations of original impressions, which has spread so rapidly from the writings of the late French metaphysicians; and which charms us, even while we deny it, by its appearance of simple truth, a plain statement of the doctrine of anterior rE or seam would perhaps have had little effect. It required a enun- ciation of its force to surprise into discussion ; and discussion, excited as it has been, in one country at least, to such enthusiasm of inquiry, will terminate, we trust, in the mutual correction of the errors of Condillac and of Kant
In examining the validity of the doctrines of transcendentalism we shall follow the order in which they were stated.
‘Fhe existence of a system, which is neither dogmatical in its first principles, nor altogether ical, it is impossible to admit. We me ee only from something which we take for grant- ed; and this first principle must be stated or understood dogma- tically. The critieal phi r, it is said, goes along with the sceptic, in exposing the illusions of the dogmatist ; but, if every principle assumed be dogmatism, withthe sceptic he must als rest. To go farther, and inquire into the source of each ilasions, 1s to do nothing more than dogmatize in a new way; for ‘he must be- lieve the illusion to have taken place, because a certain source of illusion existed, which he must demonstrate from some principle, acknowledged before, and therefore confessedly in need of support ;
1903. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 265
or from another np preg ad news without proof. In wrleny ye aed i from the theorists who have gone be- fore him? .All, at least in modern times, have been critical, as all have professed to examine the faculties of the cognitive being. Of this examination there are various degrees of accuracy, and the theory of transcendentalism may therefore be a better dog- matism than others ; but still it is not distinguished by any new character, so as to deserve a peculiarity of name. In the mere belief of the subjectivity of perception, it certainly } oy ori- inal; for it w be difficult to find a philosopher - a tn who retains the belief of Ph per oaedlitind ntation, by the senses, of the qualities of external matter. es circumstance, however, we differ from the transcenden- talist. - We own the subjectivity of our perceptions ; but we are convinced of the impossibility of analysing them into objective and subjective elements ; since to us, by the laws of our nature, these elements must ever co-exist. It would not be more absurd to assert, that an eye, on which blue and yellow rays were con- tinually poured together in one unvaried sensation, could, by'the mere exertion of internal powers of thought, discover the nature of the compound beam. As an illustration of the possibility of this analysis, M. Villers adduces the probable reflections of a camera obscura, which, by the power in him vested, he has endowed with animation*. To
the sensorium of this transcendentalist, the light is sup to ee through a coloured medium ; and the subjectivity of the co-
» a8 apart of its sensations, it is affirmed to be capable of discovering, by the exertion of its own unaided powers. ‘To us, indeed, who know that light has been decomposed in passing, it is easy to make the inference, that all the objects in nature are not red ; but we cannot suppose the machine itself, however subtile,
* Even though the reasoning from transcendental machinery had been just, there is something so ludicrous in the conception, that an author, who designed it only for illustration, would have been very cautious of repeating it. But, with M. Villers, it is a favourite figure ; and he introduces it sometimesin such a manner, that we are uncertain whether it be his wish that we should laugh with him at the follies of metaphysics, or content ourselves with being seriously convinced of the truth of his argument. The following passage is surely more in the manner of Voltaire, than of the grave professor of Kénigsberg—‘ If our camera obscurashould think of theorizing upon the redness, as be- longing to objects out of itself, and existing really, it would, without doubt, find many good reasons for explaining it, by the Ne ge of the parts of objects, by the refraction of light, and a hundred other
1¢ things, which other camer obscure of its own stamp would ad- mire, but to which acamera obscura, with a little knowledge of traus-
talism, would listen only with a smile of derision. P. 242 VOL, 1. No, 2, $
266 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
to be capable of such an inference. li may, indeed, attain that acuteness of scepticism, which denies the existence of external objects ; but it cannot separate their believed existence from their redness ; since it is only as definte redness they can be known by it to exist. It certainly cannot separate the extension from the redness, so as to conceive the redness to belong wholly to itself: and, without this complete analysis, no progress is made in tran- scendentalism. Still less is it possible, as in another illustration, adduced by M. Villers, that, by the illeptical figure of the image it reflects, a cylindrical mirror should discover its own figure ; for, the cylinder, forming no part of the image, more would be neces- sary than the mere separation of coexisting qualities. The su posed illustrations, however, even when admitted in all their cir. cumstances, shew nothing more than the impossibility of that which they are intended to prove; for if the camera obscura, like the human philosopher, who finds all bis sensations invested with space, should conceive the redness with which its sensations are invested to be a mere form of its own sensibility, it would cousider, as subjective only, what was in trutha combination of objective and subjective elements, and would thus arrange a system of very er- roneous philosophy ; which, if published in the shape of a ‘ review of pure reason, might perplex,and mislead, and set at variance, with endless controversy, all the telescopes, and mirrors, and magic lanthorns, of a whole optical museum. he faculties of the mind are, by Kant, said to be three, and the division is supposed to be compatible with its fundamental unity. But the mind, he allows, is not an object of cognition ; it has nou- menal existence in our consciousness. The categories, therefore, cannot be applied to it ; for they are applicable only to phenomena, But unity and number are subjective categories; and hence we cannot justly say that there are three faculties of one mind. We fear that this argument will be considered as a subtlety merely verbal ; a charge, which the combatant of verbal subtleties must often expect. But, at the same time that it shews the absurdity of asserting the unreality of number, on principles, which, in the first proposition they include, have assumed it as certain, it marks strongly the dogmatism of that philosophy which considers itelf as the great overthrower of dogmatism _ For proof of the unity of the cognitive being, recourse seems to have been had to the common sense of the later Scotch philosophers ; but to Kant it is not common sense ; for, denying the reality of an external world as capable of being known by us, he cannot appeal to universal ief. Ifhis own feeling, therefore, be considered by him as a just ground of certainty, he must believe himself incapable of error; and if he be incapable of error, it is absurd to inquire in- to the sources of illusion. What that is, which has three facul- ties, it is indeed impossible to conceive. When we say, that it is ‘extended or matter, and when we say that it is unextended or
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1803. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 267
spirtt, we are alike accused of an amphiboly, or a logism ;
which are very fine words, expressive of mistake. It is not to
mind itself that the categories are wager’ for mind would
then be a phenomenon, and not a reality. It is not a substance,
it is not in time, it has no existence, nor possibility of existence ;
without succession, it exerts three progressively succeeding facul-
ties, and exerts them too, without having in itself any power of causation. On the strict principles of transcendentalism, it does
not appear to us more reasonable to believe the actual existence of a being, that knows, and judges, and wills, than to acknowledge
the infinity of external space. To.say, that the one is a form
of thought, and the other a reality, is to say nothing ; for both feel-
ings are equally strong, and equally unsubstantial.
“But we will admit to the transcendentalist his solitary noumenon,
and its separate functions. The affections of the mind are awk-
wardly arranged, as knowledge, judgment, and will. Of the pe-, culiar nature of judgment, indeed, which, in the common ac-
ceptation of the term, appears to be included in the second and
third offices of the cognitive faculty, M. Villers has left us wholly
uncertain : but, from the subjects which he enumerates, as form-
ing a part of his promived review of it, it seems to be nearly
synonymous with tas‘e, or perhaps to include the more active
office of imagination. But the division is not merely awkward,
as involving in one term’ affections of little similarity ; there are
also many affections which it seems impossible to reduce to it. The
joy which we feel on a fortunate occurrence, our sorrow on a dis«
agreeable one, our complete despair when every exertion has
been vain, may rise indeed from knowledge, but are not them-
selves knowledge, nor judgment, nor will.
A similar objection may be made to the subdivisions of the cogs nitive faculty. If the mere addition of one form of thought, as of the absolute in pure reason, authorise a change of term in the function ; cognition, instead of three distinct titles, should have as many as its subjective forms.
On considering the theory of sensibility, the first observation that occurs to us, is the singular mixture of opinions which it presents. ‘The trath of space and time is denied by the usual sceptical arguments. No new inquiries of transcendentalism are made ; because, with that opinion, inquiry would be useless : yet, as if some new foundation had been given for the belief, the transcendental sceptic asserts the existence of noumena, which though perceived ouly subjectively, yet influence our sensibility, and entitle it to the name of external. ‘The idea of any thing external to ourselves, is confessed to involve space ; yet, with the denial of space, the reality of objects external to ourselves is af- firmed ; and the affirmation is peculiarly frivolous, since real ob- Jecis, not haviiig causation, which is phenomena/ only, cannot af- feci our sensibility. It is not enough to say against that solitude of
5-2
268 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
self which the consistent disciple of Berkeley must adopt, ‘ that our mind revolts, and is indignant at the very idea,’ P- 81; or that ‘ he professes a belief which is not human, and which, therefore, among human beings, can never be the doctrine of a numerous sect,’ p- 82: for the argument is of equal force against transcendental- ism, which, if consistent, is precisely the same doctrine with anew name. ‘The professors of both, if they really disbelieve the exist- ence of space, may indeed be assured, that their sect never can be a large one ; because to them there is no other being to whom they can make known their creed. The theory of Kant, there. fore, appears to us to be nothing more than the common assertion of every sceptic, together with that practical be/ief which every sceptic feels, but which, for the credit of his theory, he usually keeps within the silence of his own mind. We are convinced that there is no human being, who does not, by his actions at least, evince his reliance on an external world, and the succession of time ; though we are convinced also, that there is no one who can give a reason for the faith that isin him. We therefore do not. deny the justness of Kant’s conclusion ; for its unanswerable force, in mere argument, was felt, long before the philosopher of Konigsberg was known. But, the truth of space and of the world being to our reasoning scepticism the same, we cannot deny space, and admit the reality of sensible objects. The theory which combines these may be celebrated as original ; but its ori- ginality consists only in the combination ofopinions, which before were considered as incompatible.
Against Condillac it is urged, that, in ascribing our idea of space to touch, he has already supposed a surface and a hand; but Kant, in ascribing it to external sensibility, has already sup-
sed an object. His argument for the subjectivity of space,
m the permanence of the subject, and the fleeting nature of the object, still more strikingly presupposes space and time ; for, if there be no real succession, all things are equally permanent ; and unless we have previously known, that of the great multitude of our feelings, a certain number only have proceeded from ex- ternal objects, during all which the form of space was permanent, that very form must be allowed to be fleeting ; for all the affec- tions of our mind are not referable to three dimensions. We may remark also, that, on the principles of Kant, our dreams and reveries are, in truth, as little illusive as our waking perceptions, the reference to space being all which constitutes external sensa- tion : and the man who dreams that he has murdered an adver- sary, has, therefore, murdered a human being, as truly as if in the igtercourse of the day he had stabbed his friend. Smell, taste, and hearing, as they do not involve length, breadth, and thickness, should be referred by Kant to internal, rather than ez- ternal sensibility. From the observations of those who have beer
1808. Villers, Philosophie de Kant.
couched, the same appears certain of vision ; and Kant must there- fore, with Condillac, whose opinion he attacks, ascribe our know- ledge of three dimensions, not objectively indeed, but subjectively to the single organ of touch.
To say that space must be subjective, because we cannot con- ceive a possible body without length, breadth, and thickness, is but a verbal sophism : for we give the name of body only to that ' which has those dimensions. It might be inferred with equal justice, that there are no objective elements in our preception of the human figure; because, without experience, we believe that every future man must have all those parts which are compre- hended in a just definition of man. To the transcendentalist, who supposes totality and plurality to be conceptions posterior to sen- sation, there is, besides, a peculiar and insurmountable difficulty, of which he seems not to have been aware, in that immediate in- vestiture with space which he affirms to be necessary to sensa- tion. Space having several dimensions, necessarily involves parts; and abody must therefore be considered as a who/e, previously to all beim oe of totality, or sensation cannot be invested with space. isobjection appears to us completely decisive against the whole theory of cognition: for, if an exertion of inte/ligencebe not necessary to connect in one body the separate dimensions, it is as little necessary in reducing to one great assemblage the boundless phenomena of nature.
We do not see for what reason time is considered as peculiarly a form of eternal sense ; for we invest with succession the changes without, as much as those within, and believe that ages had re- volved before ourselves had being, in the same manner as we be- lieve, that there is an infinity of space, to which we have never penetrated.
The explanation of the apodictic certainty of geometry and arithmetic is surely not transcendental. The propositions of these sciences cannot have relation to the forms of thought of every think- ing being ; because man is to himself the only object known as he is. Other beings are nouminal to him, and their real forms of thought beyond the possibility of his knowledge. Besides, though the three dimensions of space were known to him as universal, little could be inferred from them alone; and a figure of 1000 sides, the properties of which are equally apodictic as those of triangle, is certainly an idea as little present to the general mind, as any in physical science. But, though all the possibilities of figure and of numeral combination were universal forms, the feeling of duty, and of God, is allowed to be equally universal; yet it is almost by their controversies alone, that ethics and theology are known to usas sciences. Their universality, therefore, does not render the relations of the universals apodictic ; nor ought the transcend- entalist to ascribe the exactness of mathematical ideas to their
$3
270 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
capability of sensible delineation ; for their incapability of this is very justly urged by him, as one of the most powerful reasons, for believing that there are ideas not acquired from experience. The two great conceptions on which geometry depends, are, as M. Villers himself has said, an indivisible point and infinity, which no corporeal organ can originally afford us, and which it is in like manner impossible for us to delineate in any sensible representa- tion; and he triumphantly asks, whether it be possible for the eye to distinguish a polygon of 999 sides from one of 1000, though the different relations of their angles be exactly under- stood? A sensible delineation would be — only to a few cases, and not to every possible case. e have complete cer- tainty, without any diagram, that the shortest line between any two points is a right line; and, without this previous certainty, a thousand trials could not convince us, as there might still be an untried curve, to which our stubborn proposition would be obli- ged to yield.
Of the table of forms of intelligence, little more is necessary to be said than that, like the more ancient arrangement by Aristotle, it is altogether useless. ‘The only valuable arrangement of rela- tions is that, by which objects are combined, in the common or- der of the sciences ; and we receive as much real knowledge, in being told, that we have spoken prose all our lives, or that in every proposition, something must be affirmed or denied, as in being ‘old, that we must always predicate quantity, quality, rela- tion, and modality. Instead of saying, that the intelligence has twelve categories, which existed a priori, and independently, it would have been at least equally just, and certainly much more simple, to say, that in every case of felt relation, the mental affec- tion which constitutes that feeling, was not a part of the separate perceptions. It did not indeed exist a priori, for the perceptions were prior; nor independently of experience, for, without the
rceptions, it never would have arisen : but it existed from a law of the mind itself, which was so constituted, that, on the percep- tion of certain objects, the new feeling of relation should arise. This feeling is to us completely different from either perception, considered separately ; and we have always been astonished that the total want of resemblance did not occur with immediate con- futation to the authors of those systems of sensualism, which en deavour to reduce all our knowledge, as parts, to our original external perceptions.
_ Whatever be the value of the table of categories, the reflective conceptions appear to us in no respect different. The conformity of two sensations is felt, at least as immediately as their reaction; and both conceptions equally fix the appropriate place of our sensations in the system of our knowledge.
as
1803. . Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 71
It is a singular confusion of cause and effect, to say, that there-
fective forms are distinguished from the categories, as being ap-
ied only. to the comparison of our conceptions*, when it is own- ed that it is from previous reflection the conceptions themselves arise}. If it be only after the observed conformity of successive sensations, that we say there are before us two chjects of a spe- cies, the category of number is certainly not the prior feeling. The conformity is more truly a conception, since it is the imme- diate application of intelligence to the products of sensibility.
If pure reason be merely the mode by which our conceptions be- come to us absolute, it will be difficult to bring under it that regu- lar series of propositions, to which we commonly give the name of reasoning. When we say, all budies gravitate ; this proposition, whichis in truth nothing more than a common instance of general- ization, may be allowed to be a product of reason. But when we add, the air is a body; the uir must have weight : these propositions are acts of intelligence, and have nothing absolute in them, more than any common application of the categories _Nor is totality always necessary even toone of the propositions ; for we have rea- sonings of probability, which depend on discordant results of the past, Thus, when we say, from the appearance of the sky, it will probably rain soon, we do not assert any thing absolute: yet we reason ;for reasoning does not require uxversals, but generals. To the exercise of pure reason there is no tendency peculiarly irre- sistible. The idea of infinity rises in our mind by a law of our na~ ture, but by a law not more powerful than that by which, in cer- tain circumstances, we acquire the sensations of sight or touch.
Of ideals as opposed to :deas, we do not understand the differ- ence ; for nothing is gained by adding our own oneness to absolute unity or totality, which, in the very conception, are one:and it cer- tainly is not meant, that we apply to those ideas any other circum- stance of our consciousness, than the fundamental unity; for the ideal of the universe is not invested with our knowledge or sions. The difference of the ideal of the human soul, and of that unity of consciousness which must be felt, previously to the exis- istence of the ideal, is too nice for our discernment.
The amphibolies, paralogisms, &c. of which Kant speaks, are impossible, as they suppose a standard which is not in our posses- sion ;a corrector of reference, where reference cannot err; a mode
* Elles ne s’emploient qu’a comparer entre elles les conceptions des objets. P. 299.
+ C'est aussi par la réflexion transcendentale que l’ertendement examine et décide auxquelles de nos catégories il convient de rap- porter des objets donnés a la mg ory P. 298,
4
272 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
of knowing objects different from that of the constituting forms of our cognition. ‘Till the transcendentalist give us a new mode of discernment, we must believe whatever is invested with space and time to be, by that very investiture, a sensation; whatever is in- vested with the catagories, to be a conception ; and whatever is ab- solute, to be an édea ; so that the error of our application, if in truth there be an error, must, to us, be for ever unknown.
Even on the supposition of amphibolies, as capable of being dis- covered, the peculiar instances are not well explained. If exter- nal sensation give us the knowledge only of that which is extend- ed, the mere consideration of it, as absolute, may afford the idea of infinite extension, but not of an indivisible monade. Nor does materialism, in the atheistic sense of the term, arise from the ad- dition of absolute causation to external sensibility: for causation means only the power of producing a change, and has no other reference to the causing substance ; which may have existed from eternity, or begun to exist, without a cause, or by divine volition, at the very moment in which its energy was exerted. Between simple causation, a category justly applicable to external sense, and absolute causation, there is in truth no difference ; for both mean only the power of producing a change : and if it be not cause, but effect, which is considered as absolute, the application of this would rather lead to spiritual theism. That sprrit is the general representation of that internal sensibility, of which the form is time, is a proposition more of mysticism than of philosophy. Absolute time is eternity ; which, if it be an archetype of any thing, has no nearer resemblance to spirit, as commonly understood, than to matter ; and if all that is necessary be the want of dimension, the sensations of sound or smell, being as little extended as love or hate, or any other internal feeling, might, with equal reason, be considered as the object of the supposed amphiboly of the hu- man soul.
The perplexities which arise from the consideration of matter, either as infinitely divisible, or ultimately indivisible, receive no solution from all that M. Villers has stated. Our error, he says, consists in confounding matter, as a mere object in space presented by our sensibility, with matter as presented by our intelligence in all the aggregate of conceived relations*. ‘ As an object of sensation, matter must always be reducible to an atom, or first clement, which itself also must be in space, and therefore ex- tended ; because nothing imperceptible can belong to our sen- sibility. But, when considered as an object of intelligence, there
* We think it neeessary to add the whole passage from the original, as we ma have been led into a misapprehension of its meaning, by the attention which M. Villers has paid to an excellent rule of rhetoric: a subject in itself most obsenre, he has certainly succeedgg in treating with all appropriate abscurity. ‘La question
1903. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 975
must always @ a possible reduction or division from the state of matter into that of unextended thought, since it is already asa thought we consider tt ; and as there is no apparent transition from the ene state tothe other, we connect them by interposed infinity, as in the system of monades.’ In both cases the matter of sensibility is said to be confounded with the matter of intelli- gence, and to be combined with the transcendental ideas of ab- solute simplicity and reality. ‘The attempt to explain a difficulty with such increase of difficulty, is like the kindness which would free us from the doubtfulness of twilight, by casting us into utter darkness. In both the cases adduced, we see much confusion of another kind; but we do not see that confusion of the re-
ntations of separate faculties, whieh M. Villers condemns. In both, the perception of matter, as an object in space, is de- rived from sensibility ; but, 7x both, matter is considered cate- gorically: for we cannot think of division, without the concep- tions of plurality, possibility, &c. The atomist, therefore, does not err, by confounding the representations of separate powers of cognition, but by using, in reference to products of the same power, terms which are contradictory ; for that which is in space, having still dimension, must still be potentially divisible ; nor does its infinite divisibility arise, in any manner, from the ne- cessity of combining it with thought, by the medium of infinity. If that were the only reason of inferring it, the difficulties which are its consequence, might be very easily obviated by the simple denial of the antecedent ; for there is in truth no transition in such inquiries from matter to thought, but from matter as ex- isting combined, to matter as existing separately ; or, if we be denied the knowledge of any thing but our own affections, from one thought to another. If there were indeed a necessary tran- sition from matter to thought, the interposed infinity, having
nothing common with either, could not connect them, more
agitée sileng tems, et abandonnée en suite par désespoir, de la divisibilité ou non- divisibilité de la matiére & Vinfini, ne tirait toute sa difficulté que d’une double amphibolie de cette sorte ; les uns voulaient appliquer tout le jeu de l’entendement ala matiére comme objet de notre sensibilité ; les autres prenaient pour un objet de notre sensibilité la eonception de matiére ; ils copfondaient en attribuant l’intui- tion A Pentendement, et la conception & la sersibilité. Celui qui opére sur le ma- titre en tant qu’objet senti et percu, doit toujours, en résultat, trouver un premier, élément qui soit quelque chose d’étendu et de perceptible, qui ocsupe un lieu dans Pespace, car on ne peut supposer & la sensibilité aucun objet imperceptible ; d’oa le systéme des atémes matériels,et la philosophie corpusculaire d’ Epicure. Celui, au contraire, qui opére sur la matiére en tant qu’objet pense et concu, doit aperce- voir une division toujours » pou de Pétat de matiére jusqu’a état de pensée, puisque c’est sur une pensée qu’il opére : or comme entre ces deux états, l’esprit ne voit pas de mode de transition, il y met Vinfini; d’od le systéme des monades. Le tort de Pun et de l’autre, ¢’est de confondre la matiére en tant que représen- tation de la sensibilité, avec la matiére en tant que représentation de l’entende- ment. Ti y a aussi deux idées transcendentales, celle du simple absoli, et celle du réel absolu qui jouent ici un pole,’ P. 297,
274 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
than the sensations of light and fragrance could be connected by asound ‘There is therefore no aid to the perplexed metaphy- sician in the principles of transcendentalism, which, if adopted, only establish with greater force that infinity of parts which he is unable to comprehend : for the conception of an object as a whole im space, is a just application of a category which necessa- rily involves divisibility ; and every object of sensibility, being confessedly reducible to elements which are still extended, ‘since we cannot suppose sensibility to have any object which is not perceptible,’ must, at every stage, be justly conceivable as a whole in space : and we are therefore entitled, without an error of philosophy, to assert, that matter is infinitely divisible. There is, indeed, one sense, in which the result of the reasoning of M. Villers may be understood. and which, in spite of the laboured antithesis of the opposite opinions, we believe to have been that which suggested confusedly his transcendental explanation. It may be said, that, in asserting the infinite divisibility of matter, we take for granted matter as an object known to us, while it is of our-own feelings only we have real knowledge ; and a feel- ing, being one, is not infinitely divisible. Had this been stated, we should have had less scruple in giving our verba/ assent ; because the argument is, in truth, unanswerable : but it is unan- swerable, precisely as the arguments of Berkeley and Hume a- gainst an external world. However impossible it be for us to disbelieve it, we certainly are not justified by any process of ra- tiocination, in assuming the existence of objects without; but having assumed their existence, it is equally impossible for us to conceive their parts as without dimension, at any stage of poten- tial division. e complete denial of external things is the only shelter to which we can safely have recourse. If that alterna- tive, impossible to our feelings, be not adopted, we must submit to the acknowledgement of the infinite divisibility of matter, in all its perplexities of language and of thought.
To the validity of practical reason, it is necessary that we admit the objective certainty of se/f, and of all those modifications of self of which we are conscious. ‘That objections may be made to this appeal, M. Villers is fully sensible—‘ Perhaps this imme- diate consciousness, this internal perception of maa, is but a new product of that speculative reason which has already deceived me ; an tdea/ forged by itself; an illusion ; a phantom! It seems to me, indeed, that it exists independently of all speculation ; that it is the great and /iving being within me. But this very belief may be a mistake. From whom shall I receive a pledge of its reality, a roomed that it is something more than a simple conception of fancy? p. 367. After all this rigour of scep-
ticism, he proceeds to give the desired proof with that com-
1908. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 275 ete of demonstration, which is implied in the French et tor which the more modest English — sr an idiom. ‘The destiny of my being is not simple knowledge. am formed also, as its higher dev to will and to act: I must influence, and be influenced by every thing which sur- rounds me. Hence an order of realities, which have in me their source and principle: My actions, and the volitions which determine any actions, not given me from without, but created and modified by myself alone, have therefore an existence, to me more truly real than that of external things. ‘They arise from the centre of my being, in the fundamental reality of my own internal consciousness; while external things, arriving at that centre only after the modifying influence of the medium through which they passed, have but a secondary reality, of which I may justly doubt. My actions are determined by my will; and my will is the immediate result of that consciousness in which 1 exist independently of things. My actions, and their directing volitions, are therefore a proof, that the feeling of se/f is not an illusion. Their reality is the desired pledge of its reality. I will: and by the sublime truths which my volition affords me, I am raised to the rank of a being who lives in all the plenitude of life.’ ‘o this de of language, of which, in abridging the verbal amplitude, we have retained all the reasoning, we must do the justice of saying, that we have seldom seen an objection more magnificently evaded. ‘The position, which was intended to be ved, has indeed been assumed in every sentence ; but it hag sae assumed with such just regard tothe principles of harmonics, that, after more than two pages of majesty and melody, we feel something like the remorse of ingratitude, in reverting to the original question. The question was, whether the feeling of self, in all its modifications, be not an illusion like that of the no- menal world? and we are told, that because man is destined to act, and his action is the immediate result of his will, and of his will he is conscious ; there are therefore self, and will, and action. Had M. Villers merely said, that because we are conscious of self, self exists ; though we should perhaps have denied the agreement of the position with his general scepticism, we should at least have acknowledged its force as felt by ourselves. But when he con- tends, that the mere combination of a series of feelings, which all equally dependon the truth of the question itself, as being all equal- ly real, or equally phenomenal, is a proof of the reality of the feel- ings combined, we are less disposed to be merciful to inconsisten- cy; and must require, from him who considers consciousness as _ 2 thing to be proved, some mode of reconciling the belief of the
* Voici la response 2 ces doutes: voici la garantie demandée.
276 Villers, Philosophie de Kani Jan.
reality of a combination of feelings with the previous ignorance of their reality, as separate. It is not because man is an active being, that he has objective certainty of himself; for the same certainty is equally felt in the most passive of our sensations; and, in truth, we know that we act, only because we have taken for granted that, which is considered as proved by action. Our will before the experience of action, is to our consciousness a passive feeling ; and our knowledge of the action is transéedibaditaly less certain, because it can be acquired only from the phenomenal world of space and time, in which the changes produced by our action take place. Even though the explanation were in all its other circumstances just, how many forms of intelligence and sensibility does it consider as realities! ‘The destiny of man, the development of his being, the system of things created by him- self, the succession of his will and action, have no meaning, un- less we admit time, and causation, and number, and the categories of modality ; so that the highest of all realities, the elevating sublimities of our being, are only the illusions of unsubstantial forms, which are at once the cause and the effect of every cer- tainty we feel.
The doctrines of practical reason are four; the liberty of will, the obligation to virtue, our existence in a future state, and our responsibility to a supreme Creator and Judge. On all these subjects, the transcendentalist has more than usual incon- sistency. He declares that they are not objects to be known or* proved, in the strict sense of the terms. He rejoices that he knows nothing of them. ‘ He would even fear to know any thing of his duties, of God, and of his soul; convinced, that if they were objects of his knowledge, they must be in themselves illu- sions, phenomena purely human of his mode of seeing and con- ceiving.” P. 360. Nothing, therefore, is more evident, than that the forms of cognition are not justly applicable to objects which belong not to cognition. Such an application would be an amphiboly, or a paralogism, or an error of perhaps still longer name : rn there is not an idea of practical reason in which the forms of our knowledge are not involved. -
Freedom of willimplies number because there is choice ; itimplies existence, and possibility, and causation, because there is power; it implies time, because there is the succession of will and action: It
* How unfortunate is it for a person, who looks forward with such fear to the knowledge of his duties, that he should afterwards be ob- liged (though, we make no doubt, with great reluctance, to confess,) that they are now irresistibly established by the most rigid proofs ;— avec une rigueur de méthode, et de preuves qui ni laissent nul recours raisonnable a l’opiniatreté qui ne veut pas étre convaincu. P. 388.
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1808. Villers, Philosophie de Kant. 277
is therefore an error to say that the willis free*. But though the application of the categories were allowable, the feeling supposed does not justify the assertion. Consciousness informs us onl of the present, or, if memory too may be included, of that whi
js really past. It does not inform us of that which might have been the t. Thus it tells us that we did will a particular ac- tion, or that we do will a particular action, or, from that law by which we infer the future from the past, that if we shall will a particular action, the action will ensue. But it is conjecture, and not consciousness, which tells us, that the circumstances of the past having been the same, we might have chosen a different ac- tion. I[t is not enough, therefore, for Kant to say, that we have freedom of will, because we are conscious of the power of willing; for the most rigid necessarian does not deny that power. He contends for it even more earnestly than the defender of what has been called its freedom: for action, as far as it is not govern- ed by the motive decisions of reason, resembles more the con- vulsions of the morbid body, than the graceful and spontaneous movements of the healthy limb.
Of moral duty it may be said, in like manner, that ¢ranscend- entally it cannot exist. The voice of conscience, commanding to certain actions, implies succession, causation, existence, and other forms which are applicable only by an error of philosophi- sing. We have, in certain cases, the feeling of duty; but we have also, in certain cases, the feeling of external independent space. Of this latter, it is at /east equad/y difficult to divest our- selves; and we are convinced that in the mind of others, if of others we may be allowed to speak objectively, the feeling of duty can as readily be laid aside as that of external things. "The liveliness of conviction, the universality, every circumstance is the same. But.there is no really existing space: it is therefore probable, that the voice of conscience is in like manner an illu- sion. Such appears to us the reasoning of the rigid transcenden- talist. But the disciple of Kant, less consistent, admits and re- jects with equal readiness where the evidence of both is the same. Nor is the confessed illusion merely of equal strength of evidence : the belief of it seems absolutely necessary to the existence of duty. What room is there for the exertion of virtue, where other beings <annot be known to us as objects? We surely cannot increase
* This species of strict confutation, ex concessis, will not appear anmerciful to those who have observed the lavish use which the transcendentalists themselves have made of arguments of a similar kind. The only difference is, that we argue from the principles of _ him whom we oppose ; and that they conceive they have triumphed, when they have merely shewn the inconsistency of their own opinions with those of any other theorist.
278 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan.
the happiness of him of whose desires we are ignorant, nor relieve a misery which exists but in our own forms of thought.
In the maxims which are given to us a8 a summary of virtue, ptr sean) meet and on the transcendental theory of morality, which supposes it to be a voice within us, i n- dent of experience in its origin, and incapable of being ajded b any maxims, or stilled by any of the seductions of life, the of precept seems to have very little meaning. It is not more absurd to command a human being to invest his external sensa- tions with space, than to command him to listen to sounds which are ever speaking to his heart, and from which it is impossible for him, in any situation, to withhold his attention. If any new duty could be taught by it, a maxim might be of valne. But duty can receive no addition, since it is wholly independent of experience. it cannot be taught: for we teach only that which ean be known ; and duty is merely felt.
If, however, maxims be of importance, the negative part of the first should certainly have been omitted: for, though it be perhaps better, upon the whole, that we should consider every thinking being as an end in himself, so far as not to injure him for the good of another, there are innumerable situations in com- mon life, in which an individual may be employed, without inju- ry, but at the same time without reference to himself, for the good of a third person. Even where himself is the great object, it is surely no want of virtue to consider him also as a mean, in the good which our action, with respect to him, may produce to others. The beautiful progression of good, by which a virtuous action is diffused in its effects over a multitude of unknown be- ings, is at once a delightful contemplation and a powerful excite- ment to the benevolent mind. Had the first liberators of an in- jured country, if we may be allowed to take a melancholy exam-
from the recent events of our own time, foreseen a period of ature invasion of its rights, and trusted, in rousing their little band, that their example might, after many ages, inspirit their descendants to a similar resistance of oppression ; we surely can- not think that their zeal would have been less ardent, or that, as
an object of our interest, it would excite feelings of less virtuous
sublimity.
The second maxim, when stripped of the mysterious majesty of its terms, is only the common doctrine of uii/i/y ; but with an expression so very complicated and artificial, that it loses all the effect of a proverb, for which alone such’ maxims are valuable.
An universal law of nature is not an object apprehensible by the multitude. It might have been more simple. and therefore better stated—Do that which it would be of advuntage upon the whole, that every one should tn a smilar situttionimitate. Even this, however, is without that quick-feit application to self, which is of
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1808. Villers, Philosophie de Kant, 279
such power in the proverbial Christian maxim, and which much more than compensates the cases to which that maxim is inap- le.
The belief of the reality of a future state, forms a very incon- sistent part of a theory which denies the actual succession of time ; nor, omitting this fundamental objection, do we understand the poetry with which the state of future being is described. The mind cannot quit the phenomenal world, unless it cease to exist with all its necessary and independent forms. Though around it (for we have yet no noum language) be a system of the in themselves, there isa subject, as well as objects ; and this - ject cannot fail to modify the external influences. Our know- ledge of external things must be combined, as at present of ob- jective and subjective elements; and the world may change its laws, but in all its changes it must to us be phenomenal,
In reviewing the Transcendental theism, we own, that it is ve- ry difficult for us to restrain that feeling of the /udicrous, which, ona system so respectable, in its celebrity at least, we are un- willing to indulge. An absolute unity, which is neither one nor more than one, a creator of all things without causation or priori- ty a judge of the past without succession of time, a being who does not* exist, are so utterly inconceivable by us, that, if the- ism depend on the conception of them, we must overcome the strongest reluctance of our nature, and be atheists when the most delightful of our feelings has ceased to be possible,
The animadversions we have made on the Transcendental the- ory, have, we trust, justified our assertion, that its originality consists merely in intermingling, as parts of one system, «ithout regard te its general harmony, the practical belief which the sceptic has always felt, with the tenets which he speculatively avows. The critical philosophy has not connected = discor- dant opinions; it has merely placed them together; and when thus exhibited, we do not feel more strongly the possibility of their coalescence. It is acknowledged by M. Villers, that Kant is thoroughly acquainted with the metaphysical writings of every country in Europe ; and we think we trace in him a peculiar ac- ergs with those of our own language. The egoism of
rkeley and Hume is largely incorporated in his system, and
combined with the opposing tenets of the school of Dr Reid If, t
to the common sense of that school, we add the innate susceptibili- ties of Leibnitz, and the denial by Hume of necessury connexion in causation, and of the reality of external perception, we bring before us the theory of cognition of Kant But the force of com-
* M. Villers adds, in a note, as if astonished at the fact, that it was for denying the existence of God, that Fichte was declared an atheist by the theologians of Dresden. P, 341.
280 Villers, Philosophie de Kant. Jan,
mon sense, and of the distinction of innate ideas, és invalidated by the denial of the reality of our external knowledge ; and the denial of the reality of our perception of objects in space, is in- validated by the adoption of the principle of common sense.
It remains to us only to say a few words on that part of the merit which belongs to the exposition of the theory. To its frequency of digressive declamation, we have before alluded : and we can assure our readers, that, whatever terrors may be associated in their mind with the formidable name of Kant, they have little to fear in the summary which his disciple has given them. Instead of being dry and repulsive, it has the contrary fault of too lavish ornament. There is occasionally a richness of metaphor, which would have delighted us in a work of less rigid science ; and which, when we consider the genius of the people to whom it was addressed, was perhaps, even in an ab- struse investigation, an artifice of prudent skill. Had our limits permitted us, we could have selected many passages of great ora- torical interest. We could also have selected many, which, in attempting unusual strength of imagery or expression, have bor- dered very closely on badness of taste. But in reviewing the exposition of a system, of which, in the different senses of the terms, we have at once heard so much and so little, we thought it of more consequence to examine the merit of the theorist, than of the commentator. At the same time, we readily confess, that the qualities he has himself exhibited in this humbler office, have a just claim to our regard. We are sensible of the zeal and the eloquence, with which he delivers a series of doctrines, that to him appear of no common value ; and we applaud the sentiment with which, as a citizen retained unwillingly from the nation which gave bim birth, he offers to it the acquisitions of years of absence. ‘ Prevented,’ he says, ‘ by circumstances, from the glory of attaching my name to those great events, which have produced so memorable a reform in the political situation of my country, it shall be found there. at least among the names of those who, in the calmer labour of intellectual reform have been assiduous to hasten the development of a purer morality, and e stricter science.’ P. Ixvii, ‘The enthusiasm with which the ef- fects of the principles of transcendentalism are, on every occa- sion, exhibited, though it may not have excited our sympathy of admiration, has convinced us at least of the reality of their ex- pounder’s esteem; and if our opinion of their value were equal to his own, we should see little occasion for regret in those cir- cumstances, which, withholding the doubtful distinction of at- taching his name to the fleeting tumults of the day, enabled him to acquire, and communicate to a great nation, a system of the most important knowledge, and thus to perpetuate his name with the eternal interests of moral and scientific truth,
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1808. Sonnini’s Travels in Greece and Turkey. 281
Arv.dL. Travels in Greece and Turkey, undertaken by order of Louis XVI. and with the authority of the Ottoman Court. y C. 8. Sonnini, Member of se i and Societies, of the Societies of ulture at Paris, and-of the Observers of Men. Illustrated by Engravings, and a Ma of those Countries. Translated fromthe French. 4to. 5 1801.
PP
‘ ‘dota Franks must be great blockheads,’ said a Turk,
speaking to his companion of M. Sonnini, ‘ since this one, who, among them is reckoned intelligent, knows nothing of what may be useful to him.’ ‘It is our opinion, however, that the be- lief of this true believer was an erroneous belief; and that our author’s discernment both of the uti/e and the dulce, is much more extensive than he imagined. For instance, he has discovered to a certainty, that the possession of the Grecian isles would be extremely useful to France; moreover, he has discovered that those isles are admirably adapted by nature to flourish under a consular government: and we, not to be left behind in'the per- ception of utility, have discovered that the government of Crete or Cyprus would be both useful and agreeable to M. Sonnini.
The cowardice, ignorance, and dishonesty of the modern Geeks continued long to be the theme of travellers, and particu- larly of the French. But it is now discovered, that under these qualities, are concealed the germs of every thing great and he- roic ; that the valour of ancient Sparta, the elegance of Athens, and the refinement of all Greece, wait only to be relieved from the barbarous oppressions of the Turks, to burst forth in all their original splendour.
e French writers were not always so tremblingly alive to the wrongs and misfortunes of the Greeks, Whilst Turkey was an ally of France, the Turks were a brave, an honest, and a gene- rous nation; though it was to be desired they could abate some- thing of their intolerance, together with a certain haughtiness of deportment, by no means characteristic of the best company. But the inconceivable dulness of the Sublime Porte, in not per- ceiving how infinitely the possession of Egypt by France must have redounded to its advantage, has bereft its subjects of all their virtues, and magnified their iniquities to a degree no longer sup- portable.
The Ottoman government is vicious in its principles, and still more defective in its administration: we by no means propose to undertake its defence ; and if ever we publish plans for a per- fect government (which are wonderfully salutary when confined to paper), the members of the Divan are the last politicians we should ‘think of consulting. But the candid and impartial, before
VOL. 1. NO. 2, T
22 Sonnini’s Travels in Greece and Turkey. Jan,
they. attribute the whole of the change in the situation of Greece to. the Turkish government, would do well to recollect, that, un- der. the Roman dominion, the Greeks had entirely lost their mar- tial spirit, and degenerated to a nation of dastardly sycophants ; and {hat their commerce and industry had undergone a remark- able declension, under the eastern empire. The thirty years drought, which lately desolated the plains of Cyprus,'was «pro- bably not owing altogether to Turkish oppression ; and itis na, tural to imagine, that those. islands (such as Scio), where the Mo- hamedans Payee interfere in the internal arrangements, furnish a tolerable exact measure of the prosperity that would have been enjoyed by Greece in general, had it never been subjected to its present rulers.
The work before us may properly be considered as a sequel te our author’s interesting travels in Egypt. On the 17th of Oc- toher 1778, he set out from Alexandria, and, somewhat prema- turely, exhibits a striking portrait of the people and country he had just left, contrasted with those he was about to see.
* A space rather short separates the two countries on which Anti- quity prides herself; and after having visited that whieh passes forthe cradle of the arts and sciences, and from which the Greeks derived a part of their knowledge, Lresolved to see also the country which may be called the cradle of the graces and of good taste. There, a burn- ing climate dees not, as in Egypt, dry upa soil which ceases to pro- duce, a» seon as active industry ceases to cultivate it, and! cover it with ap abundant moisture, There, we see not those vast, sandy and arid plains, those naked and heated rocks, forsaken by nature, and which man does not traverse without considerable difficulty and danger. That frightful nakedness by which habitableEgypt will ever becircumscribed and confined, disfigures, not the land of Greece. There, the temper- ature is mild, the mountains are covered by forests, the atmosphere is covled by rains, the vallies are watered by numerous streams, and. the’ soil may be adapted to several kinds of culture.
“If, from the comparison of the physical state of the two countries, we pass to that of the men who inhabit them, we shall find no resem- blance but in the despotism by which they were both enslaved. The Copt or the native of Egypt, whose character partakes of the dryness and radeness of the climate, is shart and beavy: his head is big, but empty ; his face is bread and flat ; his complexion is sallow and dark ; and his countenance is mean. His disposition is gloomy and melan- choly ; histreachery is the more dangerous, as it isin a mariner more coucentred; having po taste for the arts, no flight of curiosity leads him to instruction ; sedeutary, because he has no vivacity in his mind, he seeks not to be acquainted with what surrounds him; lazy and slovenly, clownish and ignorant, unfeeling and superstitious, he bas no longer any remembrance, por even any trace remaining, of the greatness of his ancestors.
‘What a difference between this nation entirely degénerated, and
1808. SdhniaPe Praveli'in Greece and" Purkey a
that whith still inhabits the beautiful coantries' of Greece? Under a pure sky, in a wholesome, temperate atmosphere, impregnated with the sweetést emanations, on a soil which nature decks with flowers, and clotliés' with the verdure of an eternal spring, or which may be enriched with crops of every sort, or with delicious fruits, we must expect, among the men, to meet only with amenity of manners, and sweetness of disposition. I am speaking of the men whose genera- tions there succeed each other without interruption; for the ignorant and untractable usurper may, by his stupid ferocity, pollute the most happy climate, the most smiling country; and ages are required for their influence to temper, in a perceptible manner, the rudeness of his inclinations. .
‘ The man of these charming parts of Greece is of a handsome sta» ture; he carries his head high, his body erect, or rather inclined back- ward than forward ; he is dignified inhis carriage, easy in Lis manners, aud nimble in his gait; his eyes are full of vivacity; his contenance is open, and his address agreeable and prepossessing ; he is veat and elegant in his clothing; he has a taste for dress, as for every thing that is beautiful ; active, mdustrious, and even enterprising, he is capable of executing great things; he speaks with ease, he expresses himself with bres. he is acquainted with the language of the passions, and he likewise astonishes by his natural eloquence ; lie loves the arts, with- out daring to cultivate them, under the brazen yoke which bangs heavy oo his neck ; skilful and cunning in trade, he does not always conduct himself init with that frankness which constitutes its principal basis; and if we still find in modern Greece many of the fine qualities which do honour to the history of ancient Greece, it cannot be denied that Superstition, the child of Ignorance aud Slavery, greatly tarnishes their lusture; and we alsodiscover iv their disposition that fickleness, that pliability, that want of sincerity, in short, that artful turn of mind which borders on treachery, aud of which the Greeks of antiquity have been accused,
This passage will afford our readers a general idea of the im- pressive style successfully adopted by M. Sonnini throughout this work. We will trace him at different stations of his route, which it may be useful previously to describe. From Egypt, our author proceeds to Cyprus and Rhodes, and, by a circuit among the Asiatic isles, brings us to Santorin and Crete. This celebrated country deservedly occupies a large portion of his book; but the small and indigent isle of Argentiera receives an attention proportioned to the Jength of his residence, rather than its own importance. Nascia, which he recommends for the de- pot of French commerce, Samos and Scio bring us opposite to Chesma, on the continent, whence M. Sonnini journed bydand to Smyrna, then laid waste by the plague. In the voyage thence to Salonica, Lesbos, Lemnos, and Mount Athos occar. From Salonica, our author made an excursion to Mount Olympus
Te
284 Sonnini’s Travels in Greece and Turkey. Jan.
and the work concludes by his arrival at Napoli di Romania, the most flourishing sea port of the Morea.
, Cyprus, sacred to Venus, retains few vestiges of its ancient magnificence. The mines of gold which are said to have been wrought, and those of copper which certainly were, and whence the island derived its name, are lost, through the discouragements given by the Turks to all useful labours. Emeralds and amethysts are still found amongst its mountains; and asbestos continues to be dug from its quarry near Cape Cromachiti. Immense salterns, and reservoirs for oil of olives, attest the industry which formerly enriched the Cypriots, and mock the scanty stores of their de- scendants. Here the cotton plant attains a perfection nature has denied it in the islands of the north; but its excellence has de- clined ; and the manufacture of Sugar, introduced by the Vene- tians, has not survived the expulsion of that nation. Flights of grasshoppers (sent, no doubt, by the Turks) invade the island from the east, and vegetation disappears before their destructive myriads. Long and cruel droughts frequently banish every ap- pearance of verdure, These, according to our author, are be- coming more frequent, and are to be attributed to the extirpation of the forests, which attracted moisture. The same cause will, he thinks, produce a similar effect in his native county; and if timely precautions be not employed to prevent it, France may
ticipate ‘in the aridity with which a detestable government Pras struck the soil of Cyprus.’ From this e, we may learn to appreciate the candour of M. Sonnini with regard to the Turk- ish government, since it is so severely reprobated for cutting down the forests, and thereby occasioning drought. That trees have
some effect in promoting rain, is a plausible hypothesis ; but what government ever thought of limiting the extent of its plantations by the criterion of a water guage? Does not our government quietly behold new plantations rising everywhere around us, though the recent scarcities be chiefly imputable to excess of humidity ?
Rhodes, celebrated for the valour of its inhabitants, their activity and skill in navigation, has retained only the city of the same name, of the three which it formerly contained. It is inhabited chiefly by Turks, whose orchards and gardens em- bellish the environs. The Rhodians are still expert navigators; but the produce of their land bears no proportion. to the riches which an intelligent culture might extract from a soil so prolific.
We will here insert the only two geological speculations, in which our author has indulged; only remarking, that neither of them is new. :
1803. Sonnini’s Trapels in Greece and Turkey. 285
*When we direct our view over that immense number of broad elevated lawns, of summits of mountains, of points of rocks, placed without order, and very near to each other, with whicli the Me- diterranean is covered on the east, we cannot avoid thinking that this extent of sea, thickly strewn with a multitude of lands, has form- ed a continent in times the most remote; and that a sudden éruption of the waters of the Black sea, earthquakes, and the violent action of volcanoes, have inundated that ancient country of Greece, and torn it into innumerable shreds. ‘Vast and deep ‘c have swallowed up a considerable portion of that country; and there has remained of it only peaks of mountains, furrowed by cavities and fissures, ‘in which the confusion of the substances attests that they have been overthrown.
‘ Each ‘of these islands, the remains of an ancient land, violently shaken, and for the most part ingulfed by one of those great catas- trophies of Nature, the traces of which areso strongly imprinted on the surface of the globe, has near its islets, rocks emerging from the waters, or concealed beneath them, ledges, shoals, fragments of its ancient junction with a neighbouring island, or with a continent : it is still easy for the observer to follow some of the lines which connect- ed these lands with each other, and to convince himself that they all formed but one uninterrupted country. Who knows even whether it be not in this part of the Mediterranean, rather than in the ocean, that we must look for the site of the famous Atlantis of Plato? That celebrated philosopher of antiquity has said, in express terms, that it was to the south of Attica, which justifies the well-founded presump- tion, that it was situated towards the coast of Libya.’ p. 131-132.
‘ Bat what has hitherto escaped remark, bat which, nevertheless, is ani nt observation, is, that all the other islands of the same sea lie, with respect to their leagth, in a north and south direction, with more or less inclination towards the east or west; whereas the island of Candia extends from east to west: it appears to be a long base, on which the whole Archipelago reposes, This peculiar direction indi- cates a different origin. The islands of the Lgean sea are the sum- mits of mountains, which belong to a country whose plains have been submerged by a sudden irruption of the waters of the black sea. The effects.of this vast submersion are discoverable in the form of the masses which it has suffered to subsist, and which have all preserved a direction parallel to the current that has insulated them, and whose impetuosity has been broken against the istand of Candia, on which it has been unable to make any impression. May it not be sw that these very waters, of a rapidity so violent, and a part of which was directed towards the south-east, repelled to the lands of Syria, may have exercised their action in a direction contrary to their first impulse, and have detached from Africa the island of Candia, by in- undating the low lands by which they were united? And this con- jecture of the ancient junction of Candia with the coast of Barbary, acquires an additional degree — when we pay attention
3
286 Sonnini’s Travels in Greece and Turkey. Jan.
to, the shallowness of the channel which separates them, and whose bottom every where affords sonndings. p. 210-211.
Our limits were inadequate to offer, even an indistinct sketeh of the various places described by our author, whom we-will now take up at the conclusion of his labours.
‘The aspect of Salonica, from the harbour, annonoces an ;
able enclosure ; but when you eater it, you presently relimanich the good opinion which you bad conceived of it ; streets, narrow and ill paved, as ‘well.as crooked ;, houses, slovenly on the outside, and, jn the inside, worse laid out, together with a miserable population, in- duce. the wish of seeing it only ata distance. It is, nevertheless, one of the finest towns of Turkey, and one of the most important, from its position, and.the richness of its trade _, It, is.also, the, seat.of one of the. first, goverumeuts ofthe empire.’ p. 512.
M Sonnini found the Macedonians, now Albanians, in a state of open revolt against the Porte, and the whole country exposed to the depredations of banditti. Infinite address was requisite to disengage our traveller from a variety of dangerous rencounters. Need we say that M. Sonnini possessed the requisite address ? The character of a, physician was the only one in which it would have been practicable to travel in Macedonia: and, what might formerly haye been a, passport to Parnassus, now only conducted our author to the summils of Olympus. The solitary convent of
St. Dennis terminates the habitable region, of the mountain : be- yond that are found heaps of snow, in the middle of July. He continued {o ascend, whilst afew stupted trees,and shrubs favour- ed his.exertions; but at last,these forsook. him, and be, was oblig- ed to contemplate from that station, the rocky and_ inaccessible summit covered with eternal snows.
‘The reader may easily conceive the inmeuse extent of different countries which our view embraced from the top of Olympus. It seemed to us to touch Pelion and Ossa, which form another chain 6f mountains ; aod the vale of Tempe, of which the ancient poets have spoken to us as a place of delight, appeared to us a very narrow gorge; aud the river Peneus which waters it, a streamlet of water scarcely perceptible. However, we there remarked every thing that takes place on yery lofty eminences ; a very sharp cold, waters still colder, evormous shelves of rocks, heaped the one on the other, and alike threatesing heaven with their point, and earth with their fall, and at our feet big clouds, which, by separating us from the abode of men, seemed to place us in the habitation of the gods,’ p, 532.
Mueh of the ground over which our author conducts his rea- ders in this volume, we have lately traversed with M. Olivier, a writer of a very different description, in whose artless pages we discover many valuable details, and much specific information,
1803. Sonnini’s Travels in Greece and Turkey. 287
omitted by M; Sonnini, Both of these trayellers spoke Greek, and neither understood Turkish; circumstance which, evén , Without the help of prepossesion, must have influenced the results of their.observations in a variety of particulars. Both avoid the description of antique remains, and both attempt to delineate manners, without having recourse to anecdote. A few exceptions to this last remark occur in the work before uss but we recollect none in which the author did not discover a courage,a dexterity, or presence of shind, never sufficiently to be extolled. Suc - dotes, however, are not always the best for illustrating the Gre- cian manners. They are both naturalists ; and, in this depart- ment, much pleasing information is afferded by each : in other respects, there is little similarity. rhetorical tone of M. Sonnini would disdain a comparison with the simplicity’ of dic lien observed in his countryman: whilst the candour and pergevering research of M. Olivier, stamps.a value onhis performance, which his rival is usually very far from reaching. As travellers they bear the-same relation to each other, that Arrian and Gurtiy as historians of Alexander.
Art. tifv«! Natural Theology : or, Evidences of the Bxistence and Attributes of the Deity, collected from theappearances of naturé))'By William Paley, DD. Archdeacon ‘of »Car- liste’ “ugnddn. 4802. svo. pp. 586. | Tea
A 4 Ehame of Dr: Paley, though scarcely to be reckoned among those of the great theologians and philosophers of England, is probably ‘associated with as large‘and ‘as enviable a'portion of ubiie approbation, ‘as that of any living éedlesiastic.” “With less eartiing and jess originality than someé of ‘his distinguished pre- decessors; it would be difficult, perhaps, to point out his superior in soundness of judgment, or in vigilant and comprehensive saga- city. © With ‘gre’ strength of reasoning and power of décision, he has alsd umted ‘more moderation and liberality of sentiment, “than is’ uastially tobe found among disputants ; and added weight to his jt ogc a Certain plainnéss and sobriety of matiner, that ‘is iufinitely better calculated to produce conviction than the sallies ‘of an’ ambitious eloquence.
oui sead tate at in the'¢lear perception of the strong or the ‘difficult parts of a question, and in the judicious selection and perspicuous arrangement of his argaments : invention is less within ‘hi province ; and even’ wher his conclusions appear to hs originality, it will commonly be found that they have heen suggested by 4 minute and a examination of pro- 4 ;
288 Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. ° Jan.
itions that had been furnished by others. “His common way is, to break down a subject into as many distinct parts as it really appears to contain, and to make each of them 'the subject of # separate and rigorous inyestigation. In consequence of this, his arguments frequently appear to be narrow and circutiseribed ‘in their application ; and the readers sometimes apt to wish for the excursive speculation and ample range of a less accurate reason- et. The truth is, however, that‘ upon’ many subje¢ts; it is impos- ‘sible to attain precision, without this formality and Getail: “ So- phistry always delights in generalities ; and fallacy is never so safe from detection, as when rt mt is eluded by rapidity of’pro- gression, and the mind hurried frem''one half view of a Sabject to Tpother, without ever being permitted to reflect’ upon ‘what has “Been presented to if. Tt ~ "Alinost all the writings of Dr. Paley relate to the highest and ' wis “important questions ge which human reason’ can ‘be éx- iself, and appear to have been composed! with Suitable. Caution
“anid! deliberation. “They are elaborate, ‘rather’ than ingenious ; and seem to have been diligently meditated, and carefully arrang- ed, rather than to have been conceived in any fervour of imagin- ation, or poured forth in any conviction of their infallibility. The utmest' pains are taken, therefore, to render every thirg intelligi- ble —. ; and miore anxiety is shown that nothing neces- sary!
bbe omitted, than that all superfluity should be excluded. All cavil is prevented by a jealous strictness of expression; and a few homely illustrations are commonly sufficient to expose those illusions, by which a false philosophy is supported in so, many of her.unsubstantial speculations, ,
The, progress of time, and the improving ingenuity of scepti- cism have given a new aspect to all our philosophical produc- tions... It wine rh pnenig for a writer on morality or religion to explain and enforce his own conceptions those important cablodis 3, he must make way: for ther lotion by the extirpa- tion of a multitude of errors, and must be upon the alert at every stage of his progress. He must advance with circumspection as well as boldness, and fortify every position against the attacks of a.vigilant and formidable adversary, As the:fornis of error, too, are infinite and contradictory, be must incessantly be changing his posture of a ~ direction of attack ; what. sae? ‘or, the confutation of one set of opponents, bei frequently etext of hostility toa second. tn this situation the Last Baer sahyects can only ache 6 ity wri to skilful reasoners, and expert logicians ; men, who will neither give quarter to is- pin consume their forces,in ut vobttable conte! udaguryl will confine their hostility to the proper object of resentment,
and ne ther use their victories with insolence, nor refuse to yield
Dr. Paley’s ‘Natural’ Theology. 289 what they have neither power nor inducement to retain.’ The great art in all seme it] of ‘this nature, a first, bi ing the argument to a point, and then to urge it steadily and_ cl to an issue. We to not know ais Miter who has observed both ecepts with greater judgment ahd address than Dr. Paley. All this we say in reference to his formér publications : that which is now before ius will not detract from his repatation, and probably si Paget Br nd iat Ape! nepetiiee ‘On, the subject of Natural Thesloky, no one looks for" ori¢in- ality, and he one pretends to Hse | Its great dad ani is its extrethe simplicity, and the Vast multiplicity of obvions and decisive evidences that may every Where be found for its itustra- tion. "The great book of thé universe lies open fo all mankind; and he who cannot ‘read in it the name and the titles of its’ Author, will probably derive but little benefit'from the labours of any com- mentator :' ‘their instructions may elucidate a few dark passages, and éxalt our admiration of many that we already perceive to be beautiful! but the bulk of the volume is legible, without aisistance: “and, much ‘as we may find out by study and meditation, it will still be as ‘notin in Comparison with what is forced’ upon our apprehension, No'thitiking mali, we conceive, ‘can doubt that
there are marks of 'd in the universe ; and’‘any enumeration of the ah vedi in desi this design is manifest, appeats, at first
sight, to be both png veri and impossible. A single example seems altogether as conclusive as a thousand : and he that ¢annot
discover any traces of contrivance in the formation of mph will Pp retain his atheism at the end of a whole system of physi- ology.. We are apt therefore to auspect, that the chief value of those publications that aim af establishing the being of an intelli- gent Creator, by a copious induction of the marks of intelligence in the creation, consists, either in their subserviency to the plea- sures of nahn meditation, or in siyets novelty, arrangement, and importance of the physical contain. na more mature pach Brag dna we are y ofcigiod that this is but a ary merit in the work that is now before us, and that the reverend author has done a great, and by no means an unneces- sary Service, to the cause of religion by its publication. it may be worth while to consider in what its utility principally consists, and what is the chief difference between the task of ‘an advocate of natural théology in former, and in the present times.
The’ ancient sceptics seem to have had nothing to set up against a desigaing, Deity, but the obscure omnipotency of Chance, and the expel tal Combinations of a chaos of restless atoms. ‘The — task Of the ‘Theistic phil was, therefore, abundantly easy in those days ; and though their physical science was by no means very correct or extensive, they seem to have performed it in 2
290 Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. Jan.
bold and satisfactory manner. They a apn at ence to the or- der and symmetry of nature, and to ft regularity and magnifi- cence of the grand structure of the universe. great pheno- mena of the heavens, in particular, appear to have arrested their attention; and the magnitude and uniformity of the Last movements, seem to bale babbe a sufficient proof of
wer and intelligence t not to them he the fo this argument, that nothing sfc tial to ‘those phe a na could be found among the produets of human intelligence, or that they were unable to explain the Larix which Divine Wi: had employed to produce them.‘ Quis hunc hominem dixerit, says Cicero, ‘ que cum tam on cali motus, tam ratus as rorum ordines, tamque inter se connexa et apta viderit, neget hys ullam inesse rationem, eaque casu fiert dicat, que quanto consilio ge- rantur, nullo consilie assequi possumus
In this broad and general way did the theists of antiquity. pro-
their evidence of the Divine intelligence ; Endings easier, and prebably thinking it more magnificent, and better suited to ignt vit tbe pears that, the proofs of his ¢ uld
be rang x cas: faa he great and, sublime parts of his « ab » than
from the petty pos | mals of, aninial or v able: organization. If a sovereign mind was allow ed to, have peed the sys- tem of the universe, they had | no sri to admit, that bees and
worms might be generated spontaneous aniuals might fe hatched by. the heat at banksef ihe N
Inthe mean time, physical, science, W ing slow but con- tinual advances; and curious ingnirers oe e o penetraie info the more immediate causes of many of the armors of pea. Elated with these discoveries, which 0 to. have i
na sg
r even f men and The sun iat the f fertile
their veneration for the supreme saps er of the whole immediately fancied they had found out the, great secret
and, ascribing imaginary. qualities and pa to different c asses of bodies, they dethroned the, Deity by the agency of peta ie causes, and erected a system. ‘of materialisin in his stead. It, Ma in those gp genes we Pra 3 uaded, A ‘4 ve nions as to the opposition m an osop y. cxiginale though. they Bry seatons maine, in jater times, by causes of a different description; ‘Those, wb ae dispositions inclin- ed them to devout contemplation, ¥ bh alus fomed to look upon the wonders of nature in the gross ; to pe der them 2 as environed with a Certain, awful mystery ; and to discouhtenance every. ar tempt to pry into. their origin, as a ana terference with the councils Desh, cine Ing - ists, on the other hand, were apt to t the fees in their zealous admiration of the law ; and, mock at the pious horror of the ignorant, considered the mighty fabric of the universe as little
a ee ttn ad a ie i ed ee i ON i
wt wh th tha Bee tee eee | Lee COU th lCUeK ee hCUlee Oe
1303. Dr, Paley’s Natural Theology. 291
better than a piece of mechanical jugglery, that could only com- mand our caairatiod while the cause of a3 movements aad cob
This, however, was an error that was rectified by the progress of those very speculations by which it had apparently been pro- duced. ‘When men began to reason more correctly upon the ap-
es of nature, they soon learned to perceive that the minute texture of animal and vegetable bodies contained more wonderful indications of contrivance and design than the great masses of as- tropomy ; and that, from, the greater complication pial acho and our more intimate experience of their uses, they, were infinite- ly better fitted to attest the adaptation of means to enda, than the remoter wonders of the heavens. Boyle and ees Soe this
inciple of philosophical piety. along with into all their s Calatinds. The mbcroscbpicsl observers ry the same spit. Ray 'and Derham successively digested all the ‘physics of their day juto a system of natural theology. A late editor of Dr. Der- hain has inserted most of the modern discoveries : and, a8 hothing useful or meritorious can be safé from the zeal of injudicious ad - mirers, a genius of Germany has recently presented, the public with a demonstration of the being and attributes of the Dei deduced from the history and habitudes of insects.
In this situation, it may at first sight appear to, have been, super- fluous for Dr. Paley to come forward with a new, work upon a sub- ject in itself so simple, and ly so learnedly diseussed. It is to be observed, however, that most of the. preceding, publications are addressed to readers, that are su d to be already entirely convinced of the existence of a designing Creator, and: seem.to have been chiefly intended to promote a habit of pious meditation, and to afford materials for devout reflection on the goodness and wisdom of the Deity. They are not constructed, at least, with any express reference to the objections of atheistical writers, and neither gaard against the cavils which they have made as to cer- tain parts of the evidence, nor directly confute the false constrac- tions they have attempted to put upon others. | A work Was still wanted, therefore, in which the evidences ofa wise and beneficent Creator might be detailed with sufficient amplitude, while every thing was omitted that the most scrupulous scepticism could chal- lenge, and in, which the fallacy of every atheistical, hypothesis might be distinctly,exposed, both by a strict examination of its principle, and by the selection of such obvious phenomena as were i istent with the supposition of its truth. Such a work we conceive Dr. Paley had in view to compose when he entered upon this subject, and such undoubtedly is the plan and the ten- - dency of the publication now before us. hare
After stating, in a very forcible and clear manner, the nature
?
eye Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. Jan.
of the argument thai leads us from the marks of design up to a designing author, and showing that the succession or generation of organized bodies can never account for the original contrivance of their formation, the learned author proceeds to consider the devices that atheistical reasoners have fallen upon to elude the * One atheistic way of replying to our observations upon the works of nature, and to the proofs of a Deity which we think that we per- ceive in thent, is to tell us, that all which wesee must necessarily have had some’ fora, and that it might as well be its present form as any other! Let-usnow apply this answer to the eye, as we did before to the watch. Something or other must have occupied that place in the animal's head; must have filled up, we will say, that socket; we will say, also, that it must have been of that sort of substance which we call animal, substance, as flesh, bone, membrane, cartilage, &¢: but that it should have been an eye, knowing as we do what an eye comprehends, viz. that it should have consisted, first of a series of transparent lenses (very different, by the by, even in their substance, from the opaque materials with which the rest of the body, is, in. general at least, com- posed; and with which the whole of its surface, this single portion of it excepted, is covered): secondly, of a black cloth or canvass (the only membrane of the body which is black) spread out behind these lenses, so as to receive the image formed by pencils of light trans- mitted through them ; and placed at the precise trical distance at which; and at which alone, a distinct image could be formed, namely, at the concourse of the refracted rays; thirdly, of a large nerve communi- cating between this membrane and the brain; without which the action of light upon the membrane, however modified by the organ, would be lost to the purpeses of sensation. That this fortunate conformation of parts should have been the lot, not of one individual out of many thou- sand individuals, like the great prize in a lottery, or like some singula- rity in nature, but the happy chance of a whole species ; nor.of one species out of raany thousand species, with which we are acquainted, but of by far the greatest number of all that exist; and that under varieties, not casual or capricious, but bearing marks.of being suited to their respective min cap that all this should have taken place, merely because something must have occupied those points in every animnal’s forehead ; or, that this should be thought to be accounted for, by the short answer, ‘ that whatever was there must have had some form or other,” is too absurd, to be made more so by any argumenta- tion. We are not contented with this answer, we find no satisfaction in it, by way of accounting for appearances of I of those of the eye, such as we observe in fessil shells, petrified bones or other substances which bear the vestiges of animal or vegetable re- crements, but which, either in respect of utility, or of the situation in which they are discovered, may seem accidentalenoagh, It is no way of accounting even for these things, to say that the stone, for instance, which is shown to us, (supposing the question to be concerning 2 petti-
1805. Dr. Payley’s Natural Theology. 298
fication), must have contained some internal conformation or other. Nor does it mend the answer to add, with respect to the singularity of the conformation, that, after the event, it is no longer to be com-
what the chances were against it. This is always to be com- puted, when the question is, whether an useful or imit: conforma- tion be the produce of chance or not, I desire no certainty in reasoning, than that by which chance is excl from the present disposition of the natural world. Universal experience is against it. What does chance ever do for us? In the human ‘body, for instance, chance, i. ¢. the operation of causes without design, may produce a wen, a wart,a mole, a pimple, but never an eye. Amongst inanimate sub- stances, a clod, a pebble, a liquid drop, might be ; but mever was a watch, a telescope, an organized body of any kind, answering a valu- able purpose by a complicated mechanism, the effect of chance. In no fe neon instance hath such a thing existed, without intention so .
‘There is another answer, which has the same effect as the resolv- ing of things into chance: which answer would persuade us to be- lieve, that the eye, the animal to which it belo every other ani- mal, every plant, indeed every organized body which we see, are on- ly so many out of the possible varieties and combinations of being, which the lapse of infinite ages has brought into exi8tence ; that the present world is the relic of that variety; millions of other bodily forms and other species having perished, being, by the defect of their constitution, incapable of preservation, or of continuance by gene- ration. Now, there is ne foundation whatever for this conjecture, in any thing which we observe in the works of nature; no such experiments are going on at present ; no such energy tes as that which is here supposed, and which should be constantly pushing into existence new varieties of beings; nor are there any pT to support an opinion, that every possible combination of vegetable or animal structure has formerly been tried. Multitudes of conforma- tions, both of vegetables and animals, may be conceived capable of existence and succession, which yet do not exist. Pe almost as many forms of plants might have been found in the fields, as fig- ures Of plants can be delineated upon paper. A countless variety of animals might have existed, which do not exist. Upon the supposi- tion here stated, we should see unicorns and mermaids, sylphs and centaurs; the fancies of painters, and the fables of poets, realized by examples. Or, if it be alleged that these may transgress the lim- its of possible life and propagation, we might, at least, have nations of htman beings without nails upon their fingers with more or fewer fingers and toes than ten ; some with one eye, others with one ear, with one nostril, or without the sense of smelling at all. All these, and a thousand other imaginable varieties, might live and propagate. We modify any one species many different ways, all consistent with life, and with the actions necessary to preservation, although af-. fording different degrees of conveniency and enjoyment to the animal. And if we carry these modifications through the different species which are known to subsist, their namber would be incalculable.
294 Dr. Paley’s Natura? Theology. Jani. No reason can be given, why, if these deperdits ever existed, they avs rhb a, Yet if all pos existencies have We
tried, they must have fornied part of the catalogue.” P.65—70,
“Fo the marks of contrivance discoverable in animal bodies, and to the argument deduced from them, in proof of design, and, of a designing Creator, this turn is sometimes attempted to be given, viz. that the parts were not intended for the use, but that the use arose out of the parts, This distinction is intelligible. A cabiret-maker rubs his mahoégany with fish skin; yet it would be too much to as- sert, that the skin of the dog-fish was made rough and granulated on purpose for the polishing of wood, and the use of cabinet-makers. Therefore the distinction is intelligible. But I think that there is very little place for it in the works of nature. When roundly and generally affirmed of them, as it bath sometimes been, it amounts to such another stretch of assertion, as it would be to say, that all the implements of the cabinet-maker’s workship, as well as his fish skin, were substances accidentally configurated, which he had picked up, and converted to his use ; that his adzes, saws, planes, and gimb- lets, were not made, as we suppose, to hew, cut, smooth, shape out, or bore wood with; but that, these things being made, no matter with what design, or whether with any, the cabinet-maker perceived that they were applicable to his purpose, and turned them to account.
* But again—So far as this solution is attempted to be applied to those parts of animals, the action of which does not depend upon the will of the animal, it is fraught with still more evident absurdity. Is it possible to believe, that the eye was formed without any regard to vision; that it was the animal itself which found out, that though formed with no such intention, it would serve to see with ; and that the use of the eye, as an organ of sight, resulted from this discovery, aud the animal’s application of it? The same question may be asked of the ear; the same of all the senses. None of the senses funda- mentally depend upon the election of the animal ; consequently nei- ther upon his sagacity nor his experience. It is the impression which objects make upon them, that constitutes their use. Under that im- pression he is passive. He may bring objects to the sense, or within its reach; he may select these objects: but over the impression it- self he has no power, or very little ; and that properly is the sense.
‘Secondly, there are many parts of animal bodies which seem to depend upon the will of the animal in a greater degree than the senses do, and yet, with respect to which, this solutien is equally unsatis- factory. If we apply the solution to the human body, for imstance, it forms itself into questions upon which no reasonable mind can doubt ; such as, whether the teeth were made expressiy for the mas- tication of food, the feet for walking, the bands for holding; or whether, these things being as they are, being in fact in the animal's possession, his own ingenuity taught him that they were convertible to these purposes, though no such purposes were contemplated in their formation.
eneconeost ee eevee s.iesgvewet 2S las Se: + -S
, a]
ee ee hm CO ee eee 2 Os ee 2. 2
1908. Dr, Paley’s Natural Theology. 295
‘ All that. there is of the appearance of reason in this way of con-
¢ rng he have f Capen ger agg ag aan Scular : : sc a '
ade of i >; which, in a certain seuse, ‘ealled, * thie use a-
‘out of the part.” Now, to all pul a Al in whieh there is any place for this suggestion, it may be replied, that the determines the aninval to habits salutary and beneficial to itself; and that this‘effeet would aot be seen so regularly to follow, if the several ions did not bear a concerted and contrived relation te the substances by which the animal was surrounded. They would, other- wise, be capacities without objects; powers without employment. The web foot.determines, you say, the duck toswim : but what would that avail, if there were no water to swim in: the strong, hooked bill, aud sharp talons of ove species of bird, determine it to prey up- on animals; the soft, straight bill, and weak claws, of another spe- cies, determine it to pick up seeds: but neither determination could take effect in providing for the sustenance of the birds, if ani- mal bedies and vegetable seeds did not lie within their reach. ‘The peculiar conformation of the bill, and tongue, and claws of the wood- pecker, determines that bird to search for bis food amongst the in- sects lodged behind the bark, or in the wood of decayed trees: but what would this profit him, if there were no trees, nor decayed trees, uo insects lodged under their bark, or in their trank ? The proboscis with which the bee is furnished, determines him to seek for honey: but what would that signify, if flowers supplied none? Faculties, thrown down upon animals at random, and without reference to the objects amidst which they are placed, would not produce to them the services and benefits which we see; and if there be that refer- ence, then there is intention.
‘Lastly, The solution fails entirely, when applied to plants. The parts of plants answer their uses, without any concurrence from the wili or choice of the plant.” P.72—76.
Another great objection to the popular argument from the appearances of design, is derived from the imperfection of hu- man faculties, and the consequent impossibility of perceiving in what manner intelligence has been employed im the wonder- ful works of creation. All our ideas of intelligence being de~- rived from the consciousness of its existence in human erea- tures, it is plain that the analogical argument for its existence in the Author of the universe is more close, and more irresisti- ble, when his works bear some obvious and undeniable analogy to the ucts of our power, industry, and skill; when we com nd the end, and are able to judge of the efficacy and adaptation of the means. For this reason, Dr. Puley has, with great judgm@ht, selected the mechanicaé functions and contri- vances in organized bodies, as proofs of design, in preference to those peculiar and inexplicable properties which human art can neither bestow nor make use of. ‘Though these latter undoubt- edly produce the most wonderful effects, and afford to a pious
and
to perplex pa ay ghee
the — to nl pe “eso by isnt 3 orang tivm, which he fancies ¢an be conceived to operate without the control of intelligence. To mechanical phenomena. the: same evasive reasoning cannot be applied : the end to be ae
is im these familiar and apparent, and the means by it is accomplished are distinctly perceived and comprehended, If any arrangement of matter, however, can give us assurance of the agency of intelligence, the arrangement of living and organized bodies must afford that proof in its fullest perfection.
With a view to these observations, the author then proceeds to make a minute survey of the mechanical contrivances in the animal bedy, and particularly in the human frame; he ante over the admirable arrangement of the bones, the iis: tin blood- vesse/s, intestines, &c. and examines the peculiar structure of the different classes of animals, and the nice adaptation of each to the exigencies of its respective situation. From adetail of this sort, it is not easy to make any extracts.. We select the following as in- sdances of the reverend author’s acute and vigilant observation.
* The variety, quickness, and precision, of which muscular motion is capable, are seen, I thiuk, in 10 part so remarkably as in the fonguc. ft is worth any man’s while to watch the agility of his tongue ; the wonderful promptitude with which it executes changes of ponition and the perfect exactness. Each syllable of articulated sound requi for its utterance a specific action of the tongue, and of the parts sila cent to it. ‘The disposition and coutiguration ef the mouth, apper- taining to every letter and word, is not only peculiar, but, if wicely and accurately attended to, perceptible to the sight; insomuch that curious persons have availed themse!ves of this circumstance to teach the deaf to speak, and to understand what is suid by others. In the same per- son, and after his habit of speaking is formed, one, and ouly one posi- tiou of the parts, will produce a given articulate sound correctly. How instantaneously are these positions assumed and dismissed ! how namerousare the permutations, how various, yet how infallible! Arbi- trary and antic variety is mot the thing we admire; but variety obey-
a rule, conducing to an effect, and commensurate with exigencies infinitely di divevatheds I believe also that the anatomy of the tongue cor- responds with these observations upon its activity, The muscles of the
tongue are so numerous, and so implicated with one another, that they cannot be traced by the nicest dissection: nevertheless, which isa grea’
ao= fSlUhehlUrrlhlUrhOhUcrKFhlhUCrDOlUCUr hlCr Or
Seemdwtweenoewaetaoeoowuwwroaoameaoes tf &@e 42 ee ee os.
1803. Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. 297
perfection of the organ, neither the number, nor the complesity, nor what might seem to be the entanglement of its fibres, in anywise im- pede its motion, or render the determination or success of its efforts uncertain.” P. 141—143.
* Orlet a person only observe his own hand while he is writing ; the number of muscles which are brought to bear upon the pen ; how the joint and adjusted operation of several tendons isconcerned in every stroke, yet that five hundred such strokes are drawn in a minute. Not a letter can be turned without more than one or two or three tendinous contractions, definite, both as to the choice of the tendon, and as to the space through which the contraction moves; yet how currently does the work proceed ! and, when we look at it, how faithful have the muscles been to their duty, how true to the order which endeavour or habit hath inculcated! For, let it be remembered, that, whilst a man’s handwriting is the same, an exactitude of order is preserved, whether he write well or ill.’ P. 147—148.
* Anotherexquisite structure, differing, indeed, fromthe four prece- ding instances, in that it does not relate to the conveyance of fluids, but still belonging, like these, to the class of pipes or conduits of the body, is seen inthe Zarynx. We all know, that there go down the throat two pipes, one leading to the stomach, the other to the lungs; the one being the passage for the food, the other for the breath and voice : we know also, that both these passages open into the bottom of the mouth ; the gullet, necessarily, for the conveyance of food; and the windpipe, for speech, and the modulation of sound, notmuch less so: therefore, the difficulty was, the passages being so contiguous, to prevent the food, especially the liquids, which we swallow into the sto- mach, from entering the windpipe, i. e. the road to the lungs; the consequence of which error, when it dues happen, is perceived by the convulsive throes that are instantly produced. This business, which is very nice, is managed in this manner.—The gullet (the passage for food) opens into the mouth like the cone or upper part of a funnel, the capacity of which forms indeed the bottom of the mouth, Into the side of this funnel, at the part which lies the lowest, enters the wind- pipe, by a chink or slit, with a lid or flap, likea little tongue, accn- rately fitted to the orifice. The solids or liquids which we swallow, pass over this lid or flap, as they descend by the funnel into the gullet. Both the weight of the food, and the action of the muscles concerned in swallowing, contribute to keep the lid close down upon the aperture, whilstany thing is passing ; whereas, by means of its natural cartilagi- nous spring, it raises itself a little, as soon as the food is passed, thereby allowing a free inlet and outlet for the respiration of air by the lungs. And we may here remark the almest complete success of the expedient, viz. how seldom it fails of its purpose, compared with the number of instances in which it fulfils it. Reflect how frequently we swallow, how constantly we breath. In a city feast, fur example, what deglu- tition, what anhelation ! yet does this little cartilage, the epiglottis, so effectually interpose its office, so securely guard the entrance of the
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windpipe, that, whilst morsel after morsel, draught after
coursmg one another over it, an accident of a crumb meow
into this passage. (which nevertheless must be opened for
every second of time), excites, in the whole company, not only alarm by its danger, but surprise by its novelty. Not two guests are cho- ked ina century’. P. 190—192.
The author then proceeds to what he calls prospective contri- wances. We give an instance of the excellent use he makes of this division.
« The eye is of no use, at the time when itisformed, It is an op- tical instrument made in a dungeon; constructed for the refraction of light te a focus, and perfect for its purpose, before a rayef light has had access to it; geometrically adapted to the properties and actien of an element, with which it has no communication. It is about in- deed to enter into that communication : and this is precisely the thing which evidences intention. It is providing tor the future in the closest sense which can be given to these terms; for itis providing fora future change: not for the then subsisting condition of the animal; nor for any gradual progressor advance in that same condition ; but for anew state, the consequence of a great andsudden alteration, which the ani- mal is to undergo at its birth. Is it to be believed'that the eye was formed, or, which is the same thing, that the series of causes was fixed by which the eye is formed, without a view to this change; without a prospect of that condition, in which its fabric, of no use at present, is about tu be of the greatest; without a consideration of the qualities of that element, hitherto entirely excluded, but with which it was here- after to hold so intimate a relation?’ A young man makes a pair of spectacles for himself against he grows old; for which spectacles he has no want or use whatever at the time he makes them. Could this be done, without knowing and considering the defect of vision to which advanced age is subject ? Would not the precise suitableness of the in- strument to its purpose, of the remedy te the defect, of the convex lens to the flattened eye, establish the certainty of the conclusion, that the case, afterwards to arise, had been considered beforehand, specula- ted upon, provided for ? all which are exclusively the acts of a reason ing mind. The eye formed in one state, for use only in anotherstate, and in a different state, afferds a proof no less clear of destination to a future purpose ; and a proof proportionably stronger, as the ma- chinery is more complicated, and the adaptation more exact.
‘ What has been said of the eye, holds equally true of the Composed of air vessels, where there is no air: elaborately construc ted for the alternate admission and exclusion of an elastic fluid, where no such fluid exists; this great organ, with the whole apparatus be- Jonging to it, lies collapsed in the fretal thorax: yet im order and in readiness for action, the first moment that the occasion requires its ser- vice. This is having a machine locked up in store for future use; which incontestibly proves, that the case was expected to occur, iv
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1908. Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. 299
which this use might be ienced : but expectation is the proper act of eat cn idering the state in which an animal exists before its , [should look for nothing less in its body than a system of lungs. It is like finding a pair of bellows in the buttom of the sea; of no sort of use in the situation in which they are found; formed for an action which was impossible to be exerted ; holding no relation or fitness to the element which surrounds them, but both to another ele- ment in another place.’ P. 277—279.
He then proceeds to the chapter of redations, in which he points out the congruity and mutual subserviency of the different parts of the same animal; and of the whale, to the element and occu- pation to which it is destined. After this comes a section en- titled compensation, The author explains ii in this manner :
* Compensation is a species of relation. It is relation when the de- fects of one part, or of one organ, are supplied by the stracture of another part, or of another organ. Thus,
‘ The short unbending neck of the elephant is compensated by the length and flexibility of his probescts. He could not have reached the ground without it: or if it be supposed that he might have fed the fruit, leaves, or branches of trees, how was he to drink? Should itbe asked, why is the elephant’sweck so short? it may be answered, That the weight of a head so heavy could not have been supported at the end of a longer lever, To a form, therefore, in some respects, ne- cessary, but in some respects also inadequate to the occasions of the animal, a supplement is added, which exactly makes up the deficien- cy under which he laboured.
‘ If it be suggested, that this proboscis may have been produced in along course of generations, By the constant endeavour of the elephant to thrust out his nose, (which is the general hypothesis by which it bas lately been attempted to account for the forms of animated nature), I would ask, how was the animal to subsist in the mean time, during the process, wntil this prolongation of snout were completed? What was to become of the individual, whilst the species was perfecting ? P, 298—299.
There is an interesting chapter upon ¢nstinct, in which the au- thor very successfully confutes the opinion of those philosophers, who refer all the actions of animals to a volition excited by a pre+ sent object; and continues his examination of the structure of insects and plants, ‘There is a short chapter upon the e¢ements, and a long one upon astronomy, which the author introduces with the following judicious remarks, which may serve to point out the superiority which his systematic argument possesses over the pious learning of his predecessors.
‘ My opinion of astronomy has alway been, that it is not the best medium through which to prove the agency of an intelligent Creator ; but that, this being proved, it 7 beyond all other sciences, the
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magnificence of his operations. The mind which is once convinced, it raises to sublimer views of the Deity, than any other object affords; but is not so’well adapted as some other subjects are, to the purpose of argument. Weare destitute ofthemeans of examining the constitution of the heaveuly bodies. The very simplicity of their appearance is against them. Wesee nothing but bright points, luminous circles, or the phases of spheres retlecting the light which falls upon them. Now, we deduce design from relation, aptitude, and correspondence of parts; some decree, therefore, of compleaity, is necessary torendera subject fit for this species of argument. But the heavenly bodies do not, except perhaps in the instance of Saturn’s ring, present themselves to our observstion as compounded of parts at all. This, which may be a perfection in them, is a disadvantage to us, as inquirers after their nature. They do not come within our mechanics.
* And what we say of their forms, is true of their motions. Their motions are carried on without any sensible intermediate apparatus: whereby we are cut off from one principal ground of argumentation and analogy. We have nothing wherewith to compare them; no in- vention, no discovery, no operation or resource of art, which, in this respect resembles them. Even those things which are made to imi- tate and represent them, such as orreries, planetaria, celestial globes, &c. bear no affinity to them, in the cause and. principle by which their motions are actuated! P., 209—210,
The next chapter, which we consider as the most important of the whole work, is rather unfortunately entitled, ‘ of the Person- ality of the Deity.’ Its object is to prove, that the cause of all things is not a general and incomprehensible essence, efficacy, or principle, but a real designing agent having an existence inde-
ndent of the beings in which the marks of design have been established. In this view, he first endeavours to show that the universe itself cannot be the Deity, because, in its constitution, it testifiesa contrivance ; and this necessarily implies a pre-existing contriver: the same argument evinces, that the present arrange- ment of things could not have been eternal. The learned author then observes, that atheistical reasoners frequently endeavour to impose upon their antagonists, by a repetition of mere names, in- stead of argument or conjecture; as when they refer the order of organized bodies to ‘a law,’ or assert that the whole system of the universe may be explained from ‘ the mechanism of its parts.’ A daw presupposes an agent ; for it is only the mode ac- cording to which an agent proceeds ; and mechanism can produce nothing, unless there be a power to whose operations itis sub- servient. The same censure is passed upon those who would sub- stitute such words as ‘ principle, process, or generation,’ for a real explanation of the cause of any existing phenomena. The ‘internal molds,’ by which Buffon keeps his organic particles
1808. Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. 301
from running into new combinations, meet with no better treat- ment; and ‘the appetencies’ of Dr. Darwin are explained and disposed of in this manner—
‘ Pieces of soft, ductile matter, being endued with propensities or appetencies for particular actions, would, by continual endeavours car- ned on through along series of generations, work themselves gradually into suitable forms; and at length acquire, though perhaps: by ob- scure and almost imperceptible improvements, an organization fitted to the action which their respective propensities led them to exert. A piece of animated matter, for example, that was endued with a propensity to fly, though ever so shapeless, though no other, we will suppose, than a round ball to-begin with, would, in a. course of ages, if not in a million of years, perhaps. in a hundred millions of years (for our theorists, having eternity to dispose of, are never spar- ing in time), acquire wings. The same tendency to loco-motion in an aquatic animal, or rather in an animated lump which might happen to be surrounded by water, would end inthe production of fins; ma living substance, confined to the solid earth, would put outJegs and feet; or, if it took a different turn, would break the body into ring- lets, and conclude by crawling upon the ground.’ P, 403-464,
‘ The scheme under consideration is open to the same objection with other conjectures of a similar tendency, viz. a total defect of evidence. No changes, like those which the theory requires, have ever been ob- served. All the changes in Ovid’s Metamorphoses might have been effected by these appetencies, if the theory were true: yet not an ex- ample, nor the pretence of an example, is offered ofa single change being known to have taken place, Nor is the order of generation obedient to the principle upon. which this theory is built. The mammz of the male have. not vanished by inusitation; nec curtorem, per multa secula, Judeorum propagini deest prepulium. It iseasy to say, and it has beea said, that the alterative process is too slow to be perceived ; that it has been carried on through tracts of immeasura- ble time; and that the present order of things is the result of a gra- dation; of which no human record can trace the steps. Itis.easy to say this; and yet it isstill true, that the hypothesis remains destitute of evidence.’ P. 405-466,
The analogies upon which it has been supported, are said’ to be the following.—The bunch of the camel produced, in process of time, by carrying burdens; the naked thighs of the crane, heron, stork, &c. occasioned by their ancient practice of wading in the water ; andthe pouch of the pelican distended, by the ef- forts of many generations to cram a large quantity of fish into the mouth. On this statement Dr. Paley remarks, in the first place,
‘That the instances themselves are unauthenticated by testimony ; and, in theory, to say the least of them, open to great objections. Who ever read of camels without bunches, or with bunches less than
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those with which they are at present usually formed? a bunch, not unlike the camel's, is found between the shoulders of the buffaloe ; of the origin of which, it is impossible to give the account which is here given. In the second example ; Why should the application of water, which appears to promote and thicken the growth of feathers upon the bodies and breasts of geese and swans, and other water fowis, have divested of this covering the thighs of cranes? The third in- stance, which appears to me as plausible as any that can be produced, has this against it, that it is a singularity restricted to the species; whereas, if it had its commencement in the cause and manner which have been assigned, the like conformation might be expected to take place in other birds which feed upon fish. How comes it to pass, that the pelican alone was the inventress, and ‘her descendants the only inheritors, of this curious resource ?
‘But it is the less necessary to controvert the instances themselves, as it isa straining of analogy beyond all limits of reason and credi- bility, to assert that birds, and beasts, and fish, with all their variety, and complexity of organization, have been brought into their forms, and distinguished into their several kinds and natures, by the same process (even if that process could be demonstrated, or had ever been actually noticed), as might seem to serve for the gradual genera- tion of a camel's bunch, or a pelican’s pouch.
‘ The solution, when applied to the works of nature generally is contradicted by many of the phenomena, and totally inadequate to others. The ligaments or strictures, by which the tendons are tied down at the angles of the joints, could by no possibility, be formed by the motion or exercise of the tendons Ives ; by any appeten- ey exciting these parts into action ; or by any tendency arising there- from. The tendency is all the other way, the conatus in constant op- position to them. Length of time does not help the case at all, but the reverse. The valves also in the blood-vessels could never be form- ed in the manner which our theorist proposes. The blood, in its right and natural course, has no tendency to form them; when ob- structed or refluent, it has the contrary. These partscould not grow out of their.use, though they had eternity to grow in.
©The senses of animals appear to me altogether incapable of re- ceiving the explanation of their origin which this theory affords. In- cluding under the word ‘sense’ the organ and the perception, we have no account of either. How will our philosopher get a vision, or make an eye ? How should the blind anima! affect sight, of which biind ani- mails, we know, have neither conception nor desire? Affeeting it, by what operation of its will, by what endeavour to see, could it so determine the fluids of its body, as to inchoate the formation of an eye? Or, suppose the eye formed, would the perception follow? The same of the other senses. And this objection liolds its force, ascribe what you will to the hand of time, to the power of habit, to changes toe slow to be observed by man, or brought within any comparison which be is able tomake of past things with the present ; concede what you please
‘Seog espe ses
~ o —_—
1808. Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. 303
to these arbitrary and unattested suppositions, how will they help you ? Here is no inception. No laws, ne course, no powers of na- ture which prevail at present, nor any analogous to these, could give commencement to a new sense. And it is in vain to inquire, how that might proceed, which could never begin,
‘T think the senses to be the most inconsistent with the hypothesis before us, of any part of the animal frame. But other parts are snf- ficiently so, solution does not apply to the parts of animals, which have little in them of motion. If we could suppose joints and muscles to be gradually formed by action and exercise, what ‘action or exercise could form a skull, or fill it with brains? No effort of the animal could determine the clothing of ite skin. What conatus could. give prickles to the poreapine or hedyehog; or to the sheep its fleece 2
‘ In the last place, What do these appetencies mean, whem applied to plants? Lam not able to give a signification to the term, which can be transferred from animals to piants, or which is common to both. Yeta no less successful orginization is found in plants, than what obtains in animals. A solution is wanted for one, as well.as the other,
* Upon the whole, after all the struggles of a reluctant philosophy, the necessary resort istoa Deity. The marks of design are too strong to be got over. Design must have hada designer. That desiguer must have been a person. ‘That person is God,’ P. 469—473.
With these observations the learned author concludes his evi- dence of the eaistence of an intelligent Creator, and proceeds, in the remaining chapters of the book, io inquire into the atirebutes. which natural religion authorizes us to ascribe to him. Of the natural attributes, he observes, that though their ordinary names imply an absolute infinity in the qualities they describe, we mere- ly mean that they exist ina degree beyond all comparison great- er than we experience in ourselves, and in a degree to which we are not authorized to assign any limits whatsoever. The unity of the Deity he conceives to be sufficiently established by the uni- formity of plan that is observable in the universe.
The goodness of the Deity forms the subject of the last chapter ; and the proof of it is rested upon these two propositions: first, That in a vast plurality of instances, in which contrivance is per~ ceived, the design of the contrivance is benefivial ; and, secondly, That the Deity has superadded pleasure to animal sensation’, be- youd what is necessary for any other purpose ; or when the pure pose, so far as it was necessary, might have been effected by the operation of pain. In the illustration of these positions we meet with a great number of very acute and judicious remarks, and with many traits of the author's simplicity and: benevolence of character, The language, also, is more animated throughout this discussion, than in the other parts-ot the work. For the ex- istence of evil in the creation of a Being whose power and bene-
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volence are‘tunlimited, it is not easy to account’ satisfactorily ; and though many consolatory and profound’ observations are made upon it in this chapter by Dr. Daley, we do not think that this great problem has yet received a complete solution. With- out entering at ull into the general argument, we may merely observe that (he learned author has founded his reasoning for the absolute goodness of the Deity, upon the marks of beneficent contrivance, ia great plurality of instances: and that he con- cludes the argument wiih observing, that ‘ what.is benevolence at all, must in him be ijinite benevolence, by reason of the infi- nite, that is to say the incaiculably great number of objects up- on which it is exercised.’ Now, this, it appears to us, is a very dangerous manner of reasoning, since the infinite malevolence of the Deity might be inferred, in the same manner, from the incal- culably great number of beings who are occasionally subjected to suffering. —The conclusion of the whole work consists of a short and pious exposition of the important benefits and comforts that may be derived from an habitual consideration of the.being and attributes of the Deity, and of the facilities which are afforded by a firm belief in the truths of natural religion, both for the recep- tion and the confirmation of our faith in revelation.
As a collection of striking facts and powerful arguments for the existence of a wise and beneficent Creator, this publication is certainly entitled to a very favourable reception. ‘The task, per- haps, ‘was not very difficult, and the materials were certainly abundant; but the very extent of the subject might have per- plexed an ordinary reasoner; and the want of method and se- fection in former compilations had actually rendered a great part of them unserviceable. Dr. Paley’s chief excellence consists in the judicious disposition of his forces, and the skill and confidence with which he has extended his array to every point which athe- ism had affected to menace. The champions of natural theology never had any reason, indeed, to doubt of the sufficiency of their force; but it may be questioned if they ever knew so well, be- fore, by what precise movements they might secure the discom- fiture of their assailants. If we were inclined to point out any defects in a performance which has gratified us so much, both in its plan and its execution, we would observe, that the metaphyst- cal objections of the atheistical philosophers are not perhaps suf- ficiently weighed and refuted: it is probable that this was thought less necessary in a work intended for general perusal ; but as this treatiseis announced as the completion of a general system in Ethics and ‘Theology, we cannot help thinking that it ought not to have left any plausible objection unanswered.
The physiology, in so far as we are able to judge, is extremely correct throughout ; and it was not without surprise that we
1908. Dr. Paley’s Natural Theology. 305
found the reverend author so accurately and familiarly acquaint- ed with the most recent discoveries'in science and improvements inart. ‘Toevery well constituted’ mind, it must be a pleasing and animating spectacle, to see that vigorous understanding, that had been trained and exercised in other studies, turning, at an advanced period of life, towards those researches that were ne- cessary to complete his speculations, and, in spite of the weight of years and infirmities, pursuing with unbroken ardour that de- tail of information, for the want of which he might so well have been forgiven.
The language of this book is by no means remarkable for dig- nity or elegance. Perspicuity and conciseness, seem to have been the only accomplishments of style which the author was am- bitious of acquiring; and to these his praise must be confined. There is ‘a great carelessness of composition throughout the whole volume, and a colloquial homeliness of diction, upon some occa- sions, that does not seem altogether suitable either to the gravity of the subject, or the dignity of the writer.
Art. IV. The Picture of Petersburg. From the German of Henry Storch. 8vo. 590 pp. Longman. 1801.
HE city of Peter the Great. owes much to art and little to nature. That prince, in order to render his subjects a com- mercial nation, transferred the Imperial residence from the ge- nial climate, fertile territory and central situation of Moscow, to the swamps and morasses of Ingria. An unexampled expendi- ture of money and labour has confined the Neva within lofty banks, in some places faced with granite ; stagnant lakes have been converted into useful canals, supurb palaces have usurped the place of the Finnish huts ; and where the reeds and bulrushes clustered in the marshes, the Dutch garden now displays its clip- ped hedges, figured yews, and. insipid regularity ; whilst expen- sive het-houses pour forth the most delicate productions of tro- pical climates.
Few capitals of Europe can beast of a greater number of mag- nificent mansions ; the different royal residences are distinguished from the rest, by the taste displayed in their construction, and by the variety of their styles and decorations. On amarble pa- lace, reared for the accommodation of Gregory Orlof, ‘ the in press,’ says our author, ‘had the confidence to cause this inscrip- tion to be cut— From grateful friendshtp.’ Should our readers be at a.oss to reconcile this remark with the style of the dedica- tion, let them recollect, that, ere the book had assumed its pre- sent form, Catharine the Second was no more.
306 Storch’s Picture of Petersburg, Jan.
‘ We should probably emenmantanes the truth, if we admit the nt (1800) . Petersburg at 230,000 ante eee ae
is), ‘ y> amount of its i the sixth rank among the capital cities of Europe; since, in this respect, she stands only Constantinople, London, Paris, Naples, and Vienna.’ Does Professor Storch mean by this ar- nt to represent the population of Constantinople as su- rior to that of London. ‘ Next to Vienna comes Amsterdam, which according to Restel and others, contains about 212,000 inhabitants; then follow, in proportion to the greatness of their population, Rome, Venice, Berlin, Madrid, and Lisbon.’ Of the ion assigned to St. Petersburg 29,000 are foreigners, and of these 17,000 are Germans: the annual mortality is stated so low as 28 in 1000. A hundred marriages are computed to pro- duce in Petersburg 408 children, and one is arnually born for every 31 persons. In the last calculation, Professor Storch ap- pears to have overlooked anobservation, whichresults from hisown statement, and greatly enhances the acknowledged fertility of the Russian females. By the census of 1789, the number of males was double that of females ; and we have no reason to suppose that the proportion has been changed since. The same circum- stance certainly does not occur in anyother capital of Europe; and since the number of births, in proportion to the whole population, corresponds with that observed elsewhere, it would bilow, that the Russian females are vastly more prolific than their neighbours.
With regard to the situation of the lower classes, some incon- sistency is perceptible in our author's account. Att one time, he commiserates their circumstances, without specifying the causes of their misery: at another he represents them as the most ine genious, most industrious, merriest, and richest of plebeian citi- zens, since there is always a great demand for labour, and the daily wages amount to half a crown, whilst the necessaries of a Russian labourer may be procured for ence. The women, even of the lowest condition, use rouge; a fact, not very recon- cilable with the beauty of their natural complexions, praised by Mr. Storch. ‘
Amongst the middle ranks, a taste for dissipation and convi- viality is the most prominent characteristic. Commerce has wrought her usual enchantments, in rendering articles of luxury, articles of necessity ; and enhancing the price of both by depre- ciating the value of specie, and by introducing a style of profu- sion incompatible with economy. Hospitality is entirely a Rus- sian virtue; but its effects are confined to those who can afford to keep ac sriage, and to lose their money at cards. Even a philosopher, if he would philosophise in good company, must, at
BOBsaaREeESHS Rare SEs
1803. Storeh’s Picture of Petersburg. 307 Petersburg, take care frequently to recruit his card cm
le , and not to discover too much penetration as to the causes of his ill sue- cess. Eight hundred pounds a-year is the smallest sum on which a family of the slightest pretensions to gentility can be supported. High birth is here in no estimation ; a liberal scale of expence is essential to admittance into genteel circles; and rank derived from station finds universally a willing homage. This respect for official station, and indifference for noble birth, appears a para- dox to Professor Storch. Montesquieu, however, would easily resolve it by the principles of despotic governments, where all dignities emanate from, and revert to the sovereign. Clubs, where persons of both sexes assembie to dinner, are very gene- rally resorted to; people of the highest rank there mingle with traders and artizans; and the result has been an universal refine- ment of manners, and. much polished urbanity.
The highest class are usually possessed of fortunes which would be considered as princely in other countries. Their domes- tics consist of boors from their own estates, and sometimes a+ mount to several hundreds. The same magnificence pervades the whole establishment, and their tables display the productions of every climate. The public and charitable institutions we deem it superfluous to particularize, because they are not now described for the first time; and the municiple constitution of Petersburg would afford little amusement.
Professor Storch. has drawn his picture with great distinctness, in lively coicurs, and we me with an accuracy proportioned to his long residence. is readers will find nothing wanting to complete their idea of this luxurious capital, though they may sometimes complain of prolixity, and sometimes of repetition.
Art. V. The Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri: Con- sisting of the Inferno—Purgatoria—and Paradiso. Translated into English verse, with preliminary essays, notes, and jllus- trations. By the Reverend H Boyd, A. M. Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount Charleville. 3 vol. 8vo. London: Caddel junior and Davies. 1802.
yin rude poetry of ge os remem some high excellencies which can never be attained to an equal degree in the more polished state of the art. That energy and simplicity, which are then its characteristics, are apt to be weakened and effaced, as men advance in the refinements of society, and in the arts of com- position. True genius, indeed, will always be distinguished by vigour and animation; and good iasie will, in every age, reject the giare of artificialornament. But what poet, studiously com-
308 Boyd's Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri. Jan
posing in his closet, can hope to transfuse into a subject, which
haps, for the first time, has presented itself to his fancy, that sas and natural expression which must distinguish the songs of those bards who, in a circle of brother-warriors, break out in- to enthusiastic descriptions of the battles and deaths of heroes, which they may either themselves have witnessed, or may recol- lect from the tales of their fathers ?
A great part of the beauty of such compositions perishes, no doubt, with the occasions which produced them; and the extra- vagance and barbarity with which they are commonly much de- faced, render them, upon the whole, unpleasant toa polite read- er. But the early history of poetry abounds (like all other early histories) with miracles: and, from the darkness of a rude age, poets have been known to burst forth, who, while they retained the peculiar advantages of the period which produced them, have at the same time anticipated all the refinements which their art was afterwards to receive.
Homer will occur to every one as the most conspicuous exam- ple of this kind : and it is surely very remarkable, that the oldest
t with whom we are acquainted should still be by far the most accomplished. A few of his successors may have excelled him in certain qualifications ; but he has beauties which have never been equalled ; and he will, in general, be found to rank second even in those points in which he may be admitted to have a superior. Without a rival in ardour, vivacity, and eloquence, he is inferior only to Shakespeare in extensive observation, mastery over the passions, abundant fancy, and vigorous expression: Milton alone surpasess him in loftiness of thought, and Virgil in majesty.
it is not, perhaps, so generally understood, that a similar phe- nomenon distinguished the revival of letters. The rude romancers of the dark ages possessed, in some measure, the same poetical advantages that belonged to the. original inventers of antiquity. It was indeed impossible but that, in their productions, the shat- tered vestiges of a more polished age should sometimes push out from the barbarous simplicity of their own. ‘The contrast may occasionally have a good effect ; as we are interested when we meet with the huts of shepherds among the remains of palaces and temples : but this can be the case only when the combination appears to be natural and accidental. We should be offended, were the shepherds to remove the mouldering ruins from their
_original position, and place them in fantastic shapes about their own paltry Lovels. Thus, the simplicity of the romancers, and of many of the earlicr poets of modern Europe, is defaced with scraps of learning, and unnatural pedantry. ‘That a great and accomplished poet :hould arise in this state of the art, is perhaps
16038. Boyd’s Divina Commedia of Dant Alighieri. 309
even more wonderful, than the occurrence of such an event at the first dawn of letters. It is easier to conceive that a world replete with harmony and beauty should spring out of nothing, at the command of the Deity, than that it should be moulded out of a jarring chaos of hot and cold, moist and dry. ‘The mantle of poetry might drop from heaven on the shoulders of Homer ; but we do not well comprehend what kind of sorcery was em- ployed to raise from the infernal regions the dark but powerful spirit of Dante.
With a genius perfectly original, and strongly tinctured with the venerable simplicity of ancient times, this great poet possesses a degree of polish and elegance which might have done honour to amore advanced period. It was not in vain that he had studied with so much attention the correct model of his master Virgil. The Grecian sun of poetry had set upon the polar night of those ages ; and it is an eminent proof of Dante’s judgment, that he preferred the borrowed beams of this pure luminary to the other more native but smaller fires that sparkled in the Latin sky. Yet he has suffered no trammels to be put on the vigour and boldness of his own conceptions. Harmonious, yet homely ; concise, yet clear ; he has little vivacity, but is seldom tedious. Conducting his readers through scenes the most horrible, or the must exalt- ed, he is constantly in possession of himself; and can describe the
ains of hell and the joys of heaven with little more emotion than that with which at other times he enters into scholastic reasonings. A settled gravity pervades all his poem: he writes like a man employed in a serious business: and notions and images, which would transport the generality of poets beyond themselves, seem to pass through his mind like the common objects of his thoughts. hen we found that Dante had met with a translator, we opened the volumes with very humble expectations, and with a disposition for much indulgence. Our expectations, however, have been somewhat exceeded. Mr. Boyd has an equable easy style of versification, commonly somewhat dull, but always flu- ent. He expresses, in general very correctly, the meaning of his original ; but he has an unfortunate habit of using obscure phrases which sometimes make that meaning not very perceptible. Dante, for instance, in the beginning of his poem, says, very sim- ly, ‘ But that | may treat of the good which I found in this val- ce 1 will mention the other things which I met with there.’— Mr. Boyd translates these words in the following unaccountable manner : © Yet tell, O Muse! what intellectual store, I glean’d along the solitary shore ; And sing in louder strains the heavenly freight.
310 Boyd’s Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri. Jun, 180:
Upon the whole, however, it appears to us that Mr. Boyd has done as much for Dante as can well be done in English rhyme ; and is justly entitled to praise for the diligence and perseverance with which be has executed his laborious task. It is le, however, that a prose translation would give a better i of the genius and manners of this poet, than any metrical one. M‘Pher- son’s Homer, indeed, is very heavy, because Homer is a diffuse writer, and is languid without the help of versification. Dante is remarkably concise, and never uses one word more than is ab- solutely necessary. There is a naked severe kind of poetry, to which verse seems no very necessary appendage. The poetry of the Scriptures weuld lose much of its pect if it were done into metre, as is evident from the versions of the psalms in common use. But as we scarcely expect that any one will set about this task, though a much easier one than that which Mr. Boyd has ac- complished, we recommend his translation of Dante to the atten- tion of our readers.
The dissertations which he has prefixed to the several poems might have been omitted, without much detriment to the work. As a specimen of the translation, we subjoin the folle a- grt, tllostell Getneash afte Waubigdoum: _
I. “ Thro’ me the newly-damn'd for ever fleet, In ceaseless shoals, to Pain’s eternal seat ; Thro’ me they march, and join the tortur’d crew. In ow mighty he mighty gxlp offended Justice made ; . r the strong foundation laid, ar y= oe by eee tie limits drew.
* Long ee the nen orld evo Bt, in the womb of 1 eldest of all—but t that ever last !— And I for ever last !——Ye heirs of Hell, Here bid at once your ling’ring hope farewell, ‘And mourn the moment of repentance past !” Ill. ¢ This salutation sad mine eyes amaz’d, As on the dark PLUTONIAN arch I gaz’d, In dark and dreadful characters pourtray’d. “ How dire the menace of the StyG1an scroll !” With deep concern I ery’d: The MANTUAN soul, With friendly words on sinking spirit stay’>d—
1808. Boyd’s Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri. 311
The sickly fancies bred by wayward fear ! This is the seene I promis’d to unfold : The regions of Eternal Wrath behold ! Nor tremble to survey her terrors near. Ve “ Here those, in search of Bliss who madly stray’d From Reason’s path, by Passion’s lure betray’d,
Lament the sad resulc!” then down the steep With new born hope his mate the Mantuan led, Where wide before my wond’ring eyes were spread
The horrid secrets of the boundless deep.
VC * Thence, Oh! what wailings from the abject throng Around the starless sky incessant rung ;
The short, shrill shriek, and Jong resounding groan, The thick sob, panting through the cheerless air, The lamentable strain of sad Despair,
And Blasphemy, with fierce relentless tone.
Vil. ‘ Volleying around, the full, infernal choir, Barbarian tongues, and plaints, and words of ire, (With oft’ between, the harsh-infti blow,) In loud discordance from the tribes foriern Tumultuous rose, as in a whirlwind borne, With execrations mix’d, and murmurs low.’
Inferno—the entrance into Helt: Canto 3. vol. i. p. 109-111.
I. * Say, thou that droop’st beyond the sacred flood,” The Holy Virgin thus her theme pursu’d, But with a selema brow, and piercing tone, “ Have | spoke truth? the sanction of thy voice Must clear my charge and vindicate the Skies ; Thy inuocence, or guilt must now be shown.” i. * My faculties I felt so much confus’d, My organs falter’d, as to speech disus’d, Tho’ oft I tried to answer to the change ; A while she stood ; then with indignant look, She cry’d, “ You have not drunk of Lethe’s brook, Your Mem’ry yet displays your deeds at large.” i, * Slow from my lips the sad confession flow’d, More to the Eye than Ear their movements show'd
312 Boyd’s Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri. Jan,
My deep contrition for my early fault : As when the bowman’s hand o’erstrains the string, Wide flies the flutt’ring shaft on languid wing ; Thus fail’d my words to paint my guilty thought. : IV. ‘ Deep groans and tears the pow’rs of speech suppress’d, The deep concealment labour’d in my breast Too big for utt’rance while she thus declaim'd : “1 wing’d thy soul to that empyreal Height, Where the CHIEF Goop, the Source of true Delight Thy nascent Faith with Heav’nly hope inflam’d. Vv. “What deep Gulph, or insuperable Mound, Cross’d thy plain path ? declare what Magic bound Thy falt’ring progress in CIRCHZAN chains ; What spell could bid the beam of Hope delay, Before its light was lost im heay'nly day ; Why was her beamy torch illum’d in vain? VI. “What charms could these unreal Phantoms show, Which fill yon deep nocturnal Vale of Woe With orgieagfoul, or fix in torpid trance The sleepy Sodl, that you should leave the Streams Of Life, to follow to the Land of Dreams The fairy measures of their moonlight dance ?” Vil. « In bitterness of soul, I heav'd a sigh, And with low voice essay’d a faint reply ; Scarce could my lab’ring lips the accents mould, As with warm tears, I thus confess’d my fault : «« Their well-feign’d looks of Love my Fancy caught, When you were summon’d to EMMANUEL’s fold.”
Purgatorio—the accusation of Dante by Beatrice. Canto 31. vol. ii. p. 351-353.
1a
XI. * As when the faculties, arous’d from sleep, Of some wild dream the strong impression keep, Till o’er the awful scene Oblivion holds Her cloudy palm, and blots the vision fair, Then gradual draws a veil of formless air, Which soon each evanescent Shape enfolds, XIV. “Such was my feeling as the Vision fled,
A mingled thrilling sense of love and dread ; Par
v«
1808. Boyd’s Divina Comniedia of Dante Alighieri. 318
It vibrates in my heart, and burns my brain
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As to an APRIL Sun the drifted snow,
ier “sence
The pictur’d Series thus of times to come,
On leaves design’d, within her lonely room,
By Sysit’s eu Be -r breeze destroys : Palas? arom rce of raptures hi
One scintillation to my mind a
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suppl One glimpse, to at Source of heavenly joys!
« O tune my tongue to that seraphic strain, That bids the Image, duly press’d, remain Upon the gen’ral Mind, and on my own! That some faint trace, tho’ by reflection view'd, May give a Semblance of the Sov’R8&1GN Goop o the dark Souls confin’d beneath the Moon. XVI. ‘ With Beam direct, I fae’d the vivid Light, By lustinet led ; for had I turn’d my sight The least degree askance, the binding Beam In sudden night had quench’d my visual powers ; But this I met with more collected force, The noon-tide Glory in its fierce extreme. XVIII. « By uncreated energy refined, Bokily I dar’d to scan the ETERNAL Minb: O heavenly Grace, that thus benignant bore A Mortal’s daring eyes, that traveli’d far Amid thy wonders, till th’ eternal Bar, Uprais’d by Mercy, bade me look no more.’ — XXI.
* One moment of Oblivion swept away More from. the mind, on that distinguish’d day, Than the whole course of Time’s o’erbearing tide Could drown, from the first dawn of op’ning Light, Till then, when Neptune saw, with new delight, Tall Arco s shadow on his surges ride. XXII. * The splendid Scene, with strong attraction drew My pow’rs, all centred in the glorious view, And as I gaz’d, I kindled at the sight: No Mortal trom the glorious view could turn, Tho’ Worlds should dance, and Planets round hina burn, And ev'ry charm to lure his eyes unite.’
Paradiso—the Beatific Vision: Canto 33. vol. iii. p. 366-368.
VOL. 1. NO. 2. xX
314 Lewis’&.dlfonso. Jan.
Art. V1. Alfonso, King’ of Castile. A Tragedy, in five acts. ay me Lewis. Price @s. 6d. '
A= king of Castile, had, many years previous to the
supposed epoch of the phy, left his minister and_general, Orsino, to perish in prison, a false accusation of treason. Czsario, son to Orsino, (who by accident had liberated Amel- rosa, daughter of Alfonso, from the Moors, and who is married to her, unknown to the father) becomes a t favourite with the King, and avails himself of the com of the armies with which he is intrusted, to gratify his revenge for his father’s mis- fortunes, to forward his own ambitious views, and to lay a plot by which he may deprive Alfonso of his throne and his life, Marquis Guizman, poisoned by his wife Ottilia, in love with Ce- sario, confesses to the King that the papers upon which the sus- picion of Orsino’s guilt was founded, were forged by him: and the King, learning from his daughter Amelrosa that Orsino is still alive, repairs to his retreat in the forest, is received with the most implacable hauteur and resentment, and in vain implores forgiveness of his injured minister. To the same forest, Cesario, informed of the existence of his father, repairs ; and reveals his intended plot against the ible tscapeh ead of pore
ness to his subjects, though incapable o ving him for operate te: injuries to himself, in dood dimuaden his son from the conspiracy ; and at last, i t of their marriage, acquaints y rae with the plot formed by her husband against her father. Amelrosa, already poisoned by Oitilia, in vain attempts to pre- vent Czsario from blowing cup a mine laid under the royal palace ; information of which she received from Oitilia, st by Cesario to avoid her importunity. In the meantime the King had been removed from the place by Orsino, to his anciert re- treat in the forest ; the people rise against the usurper Czsario; a battle takes place: ino stabs his own son, at the moment the King is in his son’s power; falls down from the wounds he has received in battle, and dies in the usual dramatic style, re- peating twenty-two hexameter verses. Mr. Lewis says in his preface,
‘ To the assertion, that my Play is stupid, I have nothing to object; if it be found so, even let it so be said: but if (as was most falsely asserted of Adelmorn) ann anonymous writer should advance that this Tragedy is immoral, | expect him to prove his assertion by quo- ting the objectionable passages. This I demand as an act of justice.’
We confess ourselves to have been highly delighted with these symptoms of returning, or perhaps-nescent purity in the mind of Mr. Lewis; a delight somewhat impaired, to be sure, at the
180
give
‘O1
1808. Lewis’s Alfonso. 315
opening of the » by the following explanation which Ottilia gives pS Sg ag
‘ACT 1. Scenz L—The palace garden.— Day-break.
‘ OTTILIA enters in a night-dress: her hair flows dishevelled. ‘OrTiL. Dews of the morn, descend! Breathe summer gales,
My flush’d cheeks woo ye! Play, sweet wantons, play "Mid my loose tresses, fan my panting breast,
Quench my blood’s burning fever !—Vain, vain prayer! Not Winter, thron’d ’midst Alpine snows, whose will Can with one breath, one touth, congeal whole realms, And blanch whole seas: not that fiend’s self could ease This heart, this gulph of flames, this purple kingdom, Where passion rules and rages!”
Ottilia at last becomes quite furious, from the conviction that Cesario has been sleeping with a second lady, called Estella ; whereas, he has really been sleeping with a third lady, called Amelrosa. Passing across the stage, this gallant gentleman takes an opportunity of mentioning to the audience, that he has been passing his time very agreeably, meets Oitilia, quarrels, makes it up; and so end the first two or three scenes.
Mr. Lewis will excuse us for the liberty we take in comment- ing on a few passages in his play which appear to us rather ex~ ceptionsble. The only information which Czsario, imagining his father to have been dead for many years, receives of his ex- istence, is in the following short speech of Melchior :
‘Metcu. The Count San Lucar, iong thought dead, but sav'd It seems, by Amelrosa’s care.—Time presses— I must away; farewell.’
To this laconic, but important information, Cesario makes no reply ; but merely desires Melchior to meet him at one o’clock, under the Royal ‘Tower, and for some other p '
in the few cases which have fallen under our observation, of fathers restored to life after a agreed death of twenty years, the parties concerned have, on the first information, appeared a little surprised, and generally asked a few questions ; t we. do not go the length of saying it is natural so to do. This same Cesario (whose love of his father is a — cause of his con- spiracy against the King) begins criticising the old warrior, upon his first seeing him again, much as a virtuoso would criticise an ancient statue that wanted an arm or a leg.
* ORsINO enters from the cave,
CzSARIO. Now by my life A noble ruin
Xe
~
WG Lewis's Alfonso. Jan.
Amelrosa, who imagines her father to have banished her from his presence for ever, in the first transports of joy for pardon, ob- tained by earnest intercession, thus exclaims :
* Lend thy doves, dear Venus, ‘hat I may send them where Cesario strays ; And while be smooths their silver wings, and gives them For drink the honey of his lips, I'll bid them Coo in his ear, his Amelrosa’s happy !
What judge of human feelings does not recognize, in these images of silver wings, doves, and honey, the genuine language of the passions?
If Mr. Lewis is really in earnest in pointing out the coincidence between his own dramatic sentiments, and the gospel of St. Matthew, such a reference (wide as we know thi rtion to be) evinces a want of judgment, of which we did Wt think him capable. If it proceeded from irreligious levity, we pity the man who has bad taste enough not to prefer honest dullness to such paltry celebrity.
We beg leave to submit to Mr. Lewis, if Alfonso, considering the great interest he has in the decision, might not interfere a little in the long argument carried on between Cwsario and Or- sino, upon the propriety of putting es ym in have ex-
ressed any decisive opinion u the subject, might ae been ‘snc bot a few dn hints as to that teats question to which he leaned, might be fairly allowed to be no very unnatural incident.
This tragedy delights in explosions. Alfonso’s empire is de- stroyed by a blast of gunpowder, and restored by a clap of thun- der, After the death of Cesario, and a short exhortation to that purpose by Orsino, all the conspirators fall down in a thunder- clap, ask pardon of the King, and are forgiven. This mixture of physical and moral power is beautiful! How interesting a water- spout would appear among Mr. Lewis’s Kings and Queens! We anxiously look forward, in his next tragedy, to a fall of snow three or four feet deep: or expect that the plot shall gradually unfold itself by means of a general thaw.
All is not so bad in this play. ‘There is some strong painting, which shews, every now and then, the hand of a master. The agitation which Cesario exhibits upon his first joining the con- spirators in the cave, previous to the blowing up of the mine, and immediately after stabbing Oitilia, is very fine.
‘ C#SARIO. * Aye, shout, shout, And kneeling greet your blood-anoiated king, This steel his sceptre! Tremble, dwarfs in guilt,
2808. Lewis's Alfonso.’ And own your master! Thou art proof, Henriquez, "Gainst pity ; I once saw thee stab in battle A page who ove thy knees: And Melchior there Made quick work with a brother whom he hated. But what did J this night! Hear, hear, and reverence! There was a breast, on which my head had rested A thousand times ; a breast, which lov’d me fondly, As heaven loves martyr'd saints ; and yet this breast i stabb’d, knaves, stabbed it 2o the heart! Wine! wine there ' For my soul’s joyous!’ P. 86,
The resistance which Amelrosa opposes to the firing of the mine, is well wrought out ; and there is some good poetry scat- tered up and down the play, of which we should very willingly make extracts, if our limits would permit. The ill success which it has justly experienced, is owing, we have no doubt, to the want of nature in the characters, and of probability and good arrange- ment in the incidents: objections of some force.
Art. VII, The History of England, from the Accession of King George the Third to the Conclusion of the Peace 1783. By John Adolphus, Esq, F. S. A. S. vol. 8vo. London. T. Cadell jun. & W. Davies. '
F the value of history is to be estimated from the instruction it
affords to the statesman and politician, histories of recent events are certainly of ss importance than those of the transactions of distant ages. Every difference in manners, in civilization, and in government, increases the difficulty of making any application of the facts. It must be admitted, that a profound knowledge of the dynasties of Persia, or the constitution of Sparta, would af- ford but little assistance in the government of modern states ; and the wisest statesman of the fifteenth century would now find the direction of affairs, even in the same country, a new apd arduous undertaking. The progress of history is, however, extremely slow. The very excellence of some modern historians affords a convinc~ ing of this. Some of their most valuable materials, consist- ing of the memoirs and letters of the great actors‘in the scenes re- lated, had remained unknown to the public for ages. It does not detract from the merit of these historians to state that their hi est merit consists in concentrating the wisdom, ne? ne , the
quence of ‘ages, and at the same time av mselves
of whatever light has been thrown upon them by the discussions of preceding writers. As but a small part of the documents which descend to posterity can be obtained by those who write within twenty or thirty years after the events they relate, it
4 rv]
818 Adolphus’s History of England. Jan.
would be unreasonable te exact the sameexcellence of execution, or extent of views, from the first com of the rude mate- rials, as we expect from an author who may avail himself of all the faults and ‘excellencies of a long train of persons who have preceded him. Many allowances are therefore to be made for the history of the period included in the work before us; and we have no hesitation in saying, that the fidelity and industry with which it has been executed entitle it to the attention of the ublic. : Mr. Adolphus, in his preface, states the views and sentiments with which he has composed this work. The praise of diligence and impartiality is that to which he chiefly aspires. He declares, that he is not of opinion that the views of different administra- tions have been directed todestroy the liberty or constitution of the country ; that he will endeavour to rescue some conspicuous characters from calumnies, which have obtained some credit with the public from frequent repetition; and he expresses a hope, that a warm attachment to the constitution, which has ever been present to his mind, has not betrayed him into any indecent violence against those whom he has considered as its assailants. From the general tone of the preface, we were pre- pared to find a considerable bias in favour of the measures pur- sued by the successive administrations during the period to which this work extends. Though there are certainly some passages which are not free from this charge, we must at the same time give our author the praise of perfect impartiality, as far as we could discover, in narrating events, and selecting information. Careful references are made to the authorities on which he ceeds; and where the facts are related on the authority of private information, the reader is informed of that circumstance.’ We should hardly have thought it necessary to take particular notice of this, had we not seen instances of persons pretending to write histories, who disdain all reference to authorities, and seem to think themselves entitled to oneapsee histories, like epic poems, by inspiration, and mere force of genius. Some of these writers have even had the effrontery to assume a tone of indignation, and complain, that after the profound investigations they assure their readers they have e, any person should presume to stion their assertions. In writers of that description, we have found such gross misrepresentations and falsehoods, stated as facts, that the most charitable conclusion seems to be, that have ne- ver consulted the authentic sources of information ; as, if they have done so, they are certainly guilty ofa greater fault than ignorance and presumption, Whatever temporary reputation they may ac- quire, by weaving together a tissue of party- pamphlets, it cannot be of long duration. They can be of no assistance to future inquirers,
SBxeHGRESSSCRSORsaQSUersewsbgeS BESrPeewcs we
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1903. Adolphus’s History of England. Sig
who, though they may be desirous to acquire aknowledge of the statements of parties, will not take them at second hand. The partial accounts of a Burnet, a North, or a Ludlow, are use- ful to: those who wish to form an estimate of the times; but the scurrility of a compiler must always be unworthy of attention. After submitting to the disagreeable drudgery of perusing some other accounts of the same period, we were still more strongly impressed with the general spirit of candour and fidelity which prevails in this work.
To the introduction of facts, upon the authority of private in- formation, we do not object, where that is pointed out to the reader, as in the present work. It is, however, a source of infor- mation which we think ourselves entitled to regard with distrust. Few persons can make communications of any value, who have not had such a share in the transactions as will dis them to be extremely bre they incur no personal responsibility to the public; and the reader, who is ignorant of the persons concern- ed, is unable to estimate, as he might etherwise do, the influence which party connexions, or other causes, may have had on their statements. Even the author, who is in possession of these cir- cumstances, will not always subject information, which he must receive with a certain degree of prepossession,; (sometimes per- haps increased by the influence of superior birth or station), to the same scrutiny which he extends to information which he col- lects without incurring any obligation. There is perhaps less reason for the caution we have given, as it may be expected, that any defects which exist in these parts of the work, will provoke discussion, and eventually add to the stock of public information. The passages of this description, which will y be most interesting to our readers, relate to Lord Bute’s administration.
The following anecdote, with regard’ to the treaty ‘of peace, Which is calculated to convey a hi idea of his "s ta- lents than has been generally adopted, is stated on the authority of private information.
‘The importance of the acquisitions made by the English East India company were fully appreciated by the Minister, and he was properly tenacious of their interests, At an early period of the ne- gotiation he applied to the Court of Directors for instructions in set- tling the affairs of India.* Before the Court gave the required deter- mination, the duke of Bedford signed the preliminaries ; and an article contained in them relative to the Carnatic, appearing to Lord Bute subversive of the benefits to be expected from the successes of the British arms, he immediately informed the duke it was inadmissible. “ Worn out,” he said, “as we are, and loaded with debt, we must however continue the war, if that article is not altered.” ‘This reso-
*Smollett’s complete History © England, vol, xyi. p. 290. Author. 4
820 Adolphus’s History of England. Jan. lute remonstrance had the desired effect ; the treaty was revised, and rendered agreeable to the East India company.” Vol. i. p. 249.
Our author does not to be acquainted with what we always understood to be the state of the fact. The blunder in the preliminaries was discovered at Paris by Mr. Pinto, a Portu- guese Jew, author ef a celebrated treatise on circulation and credit. He communicated it to the English ambassador, and af- terwards received a pension of 6001. a year from the East India Company, for the important service he had done them. . Lord Bute does noi appear entitled to any farther praise than that of su ing the duke of Bedford (who is said to have acted with laudable zeal and spirit) with all the stately and measured ‘dig- nity of ministerial ,
in the appendix to the first volume, we have a ence which passed between Lord Bute and Bubb Dodington (af- tewards Lord Melcombe). The character and intrigues‘of the latter are pretty well known, from the publication of his diary. He appears to have been one of Lord Bute’s principal advisers, though he seldom goes farther than hinting his opinion, and even then qualifies it, if different from Lord Bute’s, with the most ample apology. In one of his letters, after stating with due he- sitation some doubts as to the propriety of continuing the war on the same footing, in case he had gone too far, he adds the following declaration :
* As you approve of the war, in what manner soever you carry it on, | shallnever say one word more against it, public or private, but will supportit whenever I am called on, as well as my distance from the scene of business will allow me. I told I would do so (after having told you my opinion), when you did me the honour te com- mend me tobe your friend. Indeed, my dear Lord, | wish and mean to serve you, and am sure I will vever disserve you, which is, I fear, as fax as my poor abilities are likely to go. I am glad the King has even the seals; and, as you approve of it, I suppose they are well
isposed of.” Vol. i. p. 550.
However amiable this system of passive obedience might be in the eyes of the Premier, it appears to have been acco i with a yery troublesome importunity in making requests, which occasionally obscured its merits. Lord Melcombe even went the length of writing a letter of remonstrance to Lord Bute (which is not published): and we have the following fragment of a homi- ly in praise of himself, which Lord Bute composed on the occasion.
* From private information.. Author.. wt wre + Preface to a translation of Pinto on Circulation and Credity/by the Reverend 8. Baggs. London, 1774.
1803. Adolphus’s Histery of’ England. 38)
« * ** In short, my Lord, though en ee umbrage being taken at my not satisfying every wish, 1 shall certainly hinder any reasonable ground of complaint concerning things I have once pro- mised. ..1 own, and without biusbing, 1 Lave been very unfortuvate in the meaus I have for years, taken, of cementing friendships, and procuring attachments, Others, with much less trouble, perhaps without my sincerity, succeed better: but I repine not. Conscious of my own feeliags, conscious of deserving better treatment, I shall go on though single and alone, to serve my king and country im the best manner hf ey talepts will allow me ; happy, too happy, when
the heavy burden that I bear shall be removed, and placed on other shoulders.” Vol. i. p. 551.
It can hardly, pe supposed that this languid declamation would contribute to soothe the crafty politician to whom it was addressed. The letters written by Dodington are in the same style as that which we have ed, and are additional proofs of the meanness and duplicity of his dissembling, artful, intriguing character, It is not unworthy of notice, how different an appear- ance a person.may make to succeeding ages in his own prose, and in the laudatory strains of contemporary poetry. Who, after reading the following verses,—
* Avd thou, my youthful Muse’s early friend,
* In whom the youthful graces all unite :
* Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart,
* Genius and Wisdom : the gay social sense,
*« By decency chastis’d ; goodness and wit,
« Jaseldom-seeming harmony combin’d;
* Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal
‘ For Britatn’s glory, Liperty, and MAn’—
would expect to find from the next line, that they were addressed by a poet of be me genius and integrity, toa character as much distinguished for political profligacy as any which has been uninasked to\posterity ?
Our dathor afterwards enters into a discussion of the different motives assigned for Lerd Bute’s retreat from the management of public affairs. © Without entering into the others, we lay before our readers what Mr. Adolphus considers as the real cause of his Lordship s resignation.
“Tn fact, the principal cause of his resignation was the want of rth the cabinet. In a_private letter to one of his friends, before e retired from the helm, he more fully explained the real motives of his conduct: “Single,” he said, “ im a cabinet of my own forming; no aid in the House of Lords to support me except two peers, (Lords Denbigh aud Pomfret); both the secretaries of state silent, and the Lord Chief Justice, whom 1 myself brought into office, voting for me, yet speaking against me ; the ground I tread upon is se hollow, that
322 Adolphus’s History of England. Jen.
I am afraid not only of falling myself, but of iapsing Royal Master in iny salar is ander me to retire!”* Vel. 7188.
Whatever doubt may still remain as to the immediate causes of Lord Bute’s departure from office, the general features of his character ought now to be y well known. Possessed of ta- lents and acquisitions which might have made a respectable’ pearance in an inferior situation, an uncommon share of pri and presumption, united to good intentions, made him as the glory of being a great and virtuous minister : and, that no per- son igh share his renown, he wisely determined to keep at a distance, whose reputation might come in competition with his own. On these principles, instead of availing himself of the advice and assistance of men of talents and int , nothing but the most implicit submission” could make any upon him. °It appears’ from this letter} that he had brought: himself into a’ situation in which no men would act in rt of his mea- sures, but those who were either so devoid of talents, as not to see the defects of his administration, or so pliable and destitute of principle, as to be indifferent about them. Mew of a different stamp, who were attached fo the Sovereign, might conceive it their duty to acquiesce, but they never could be expected ‘to make any exertions. In one part of the letter quoted, there seems to be some inaccuracy. The Chief Justice, whom, Lord Bute says, ‘ I myself brought into office,’ was inted in the year 1756, four years before the late ‘king’s ; wheh, it is believed, Lord Bute had not influence ‘enough to procure the appointment of an excise-officer. He could not be the person meant; and though we cannot pretend to say what 'is the nature of the mistake, it is not improbable that Lord Bute might talk of the Chancellor in that manner, as Dodington+ details a conver- sation in which Lord Bute says that Henley owed bis being made chancellor, from keeper, entirely to him ; and higwworthy confi- dant advises him to keep his letter and others ‘ labelled and tied up,’ for the ingratitude of mankind might make it ne- cessary to preserve them.
Though our author is inclined to place Lord Bute’s character in a higher point of view than we are disposed to de, he'is by no means blind to his defects. He observes,
* Even the virtues of Lord Bute werenot calculated to i respect, or conciliate affection. Tt issaid of him; “No than could complain du- ring his administration, of a promise broken, or of hopes given, and not fulfilled. No inferior person, in any department where he had
* From private information. Author. + Dodington’s Diary, p. 428.
SBE&eseusesges
SMGCSEESERSo BELSST 2SECDESCRS
isfree
gf
aS
1805. Adolphus’s History of England. $28
served, who did not passionately regret the loss of so , 80 kind a superior."* {n diminution of this eulogium, it late iaeenmebed, that Lord Bute made.no promises, and gave no hopes, except to per- — Hehe spelen omen ees Pasa
icious it was i x i ndent re roment, even to the lowest clerks in the suite ifhene, to te
uce others of his own nomination.+ This proceeding necessarily created many enemies; and if it gave him some claims to gratitude, those claims were too slight precariously founded to be much relied on,’ Vol. i. p. 127-28,
We agree with our author in rejecting the vulgar and rancor- ous abuse which has been bestowed on Lord Bute. As to the secret and mysterious influence which he was to retain for a long period after his resignation, Mr. hus observes, that, with the exception of the ministerial changes. which took
soon after his resignation, no report was ever less consonant to truth; and he adds, on the authority of private information, which in this instance we are inclined to believe—
‘It was his constant and repeated complaint to his intimate friends, both in his travels and at home, that he was neglected by his Sove- reign. This avowal, from a man so cautious as Lord Bute, outweighs all the vague assertions of those who maintained the existence of a mysterious agency; and proves that the loss of his influence had sunk deep in his mind.t Vol, i. p. 127.
Where our author ventures on remarks of a general nature, we do not observe the same good sense and judgment which is shewn in the selection of materials. It must, however, be admitted, that he does not very often offend in this respect. In a review ofthe affairs of Europe, in the years 1767-8, he takes that op-
ity of entering into a detail of the downfal of the jesuits, which he attributes, in a great measure, to an attachment in the duke de Choiseul to the systems of free-thinking philosophers. The narrative of the final suppression of the.order concludes with the following reflections :
* Although, by a resolute exertion of the civil powers, this formi- dable society was thus reduced, there is great reason to doubt that the strength of the European governments was augmented by their fall. If they were really guilty of dangerous and treasonable designs, sufficient means were not wanting, especially in arbitrary monarchies, to punish the guilty, and disperse their adherents. Even the whole
* Letter from a Gentleman in Town to his Friend in the Coun- try, p. 11. Author. ;
+ Serious Considerations on the Measures of the present Admini- stration, by Dr. Butler, bishop of Hereford, p. 10. The same fact is asserted in innumerable other publications. “Author.
t From private information. Author.
324 Adolphus’s History of England. dan. order might have been reformed, their wealth diminished, their power abridged, and their numbers reduced. But the destruction of a soci- ety which included so much learning and ability, and table from connexions, and able jentlens dqulistaneaaptiadiesinan, diminished the general it of the established religion, and gave pew spirit to those who already meditated the destruction both of Christianity and monarchy.’ Vol, i. p, 338. , We have before heard the idea, that many events which after- wards happened, would not have taken place, if the Jusuits had not been suppressed; and that it was one of the causes of the subsequent convulsions of Europe. This is so completely con- tradicted, however, by the state of depression, both in talents and activity which the society ‘had reached before that period, that we were astonished. to find so childish a notion countenanced bya of any information. The jesuits were first ex from ce, in 1594, (though afterwards re-established) ; from Pe 1606 ; my Yee to rst ae ae Bs een 8 e-thinking philosophers ? ablest that was ever lished against them, or indeed in any controversy stern me which was the chief cause of the odium and contempt into which they afterwards fell, was certainly the work of one of the most religious men that ever existed.* Whatever share the French phi had in the suppression of that society, their object
was to acquire canner by ees : en which had
been wished for by the roportion of the for more than a century. ‘The king of ia seems
to have fully as much of a free-thinking philosopher as the -
duke de ‘Choiseul; and yet he a crea, have been the only person who took the part of the Jesuits. If the general credit of the established religion was diminished by the abolition of the Jesuits, in how degraded a state must religion be in those coun- tries in which the reformed religion is adopted, where no religious orders are established ? In fact, the odium attached to the order, their intrigues, and the bad tendency of many of their’ writings, did more harm to the cause of religion, than their declining vigour and talents could have done service ;. and, if they had.subsisted to the year 1792, any unavailing efforts they might have made, would only have furnished pretences for the barbarities that were practised : though, if coincidence of opinion would have been any protection, they appear, in their ideas both of government and morality, to have resembled, in many respects, the wildest
jectors who disorganized France.
i ‘another respect, our author’s ideas do not appear to: us much ‘more profound. ~ He secms to think, that even after Lord
* Pascal Lettres Provinciales.
- oe
2°
° >
VCRaSSESCESSSTE SERPS AS TE| SESSSSERESEZES &
1809. Adolpbus’s History of England. 385
Cornwallis’s surrender, the independence of America was doubt- fal ; and states, on the authority of Sir Henry Clinton, that the conquest of that country might have been secured by a reinforce- ment of 10,000 men:
*The resources of America were exhausted ; the long interruption of commerce produced a lamentable want of all pohea deny a want felt from the highest to the lowest classes throughout the colonies. No art or coercion could give circulation to the paper currency ; and not only the friends of Great Britain, but the warmest adherents of America, considered the maintenance of the army for another year, and still more the establishment of independency, as utterly impos- sible, and hardly desirable.* Sir Henry Clinton himself, after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis, forwarded an assurance to administra- tion, that with a reinforcement of ten thousand men only, he would be responsible for the conquest of America.¢ But before this offer could be made, the ministry, who alone could be expected to give it effect, were shaken ; a new system was adopted ; active hostilities were no more to be pursued; and Sir Henry Clinton being allowed to retire, was replaced by Sir Guy Carlton.’ _ Vol. iii. p, 507-8. —We beg Mr. Adolphus would just consider, whether there is any one year of the rican war, in which this might not have been said with equal plausibility.
The length to which our criticisms have already extended, oblige us to abridge any further remarks we meant to offer. Though the execution of this work is upon the whole good, the conduct of the narrative is in some respects defective. The facts are not always stated in a connected or comprehensive man- ner, or brought forward according to their relative importance. This appears particularly in the statement of political arrange- ments, and in the detail of military matters, though more in the former than in the latter, ‘The language is in general perspicu- ous, though not always correct. In many instances it is deficient in simplicity ; and our author seems more desirous of enriching his style with a redundancy of words, than by nervous simplicity of language, or strength of ideas. The characters appear fairly drawn, though they chiefly consist of the most brilliant and fa- vourable features of each character. It must be confessed, that they are not so interesting as they would be, if they had their due proportion of shade. We are, however, far from blaming Mr. Adolphus on this account. It is more prudent, perhaps, for a contemporary to leave the province of bestowing blame to posterity, and to rest contented with stating facts, and mention- ing the most eminent personal qualities of the different characters
* See intercepted Letters of Silas Deane, Remembrancer. Vol. vill. p. 71. Author. + From private information. Author.
326 Adolphus’s History.of England. Jan.
whasgpevem the scene described. We agree with Tacitus, * that even flattery and adulation is less apt to mislead, than satire and abuse ; as the reader is fully on his guard against the meanness of the one, but may be so far deceived as to believe that the other proceeds from a bold and indignant spirit of independence. We do not mean to accuse Mr, us of falling into the other ex- treme, and we think he has a the safest course, in avoiding that which was most pts ben the vanity of a writer.
As our readers will be desirous of judging of his style for them- selves, we select the two following characters out of a number of others, as those which appear to be written with most care.
‘William, earl of Mansfield, Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, had long maintained an unrivalled reputation as a lawyer, and an exalted character as a statesman. He was perfectly acquainted with the history and constitution of England, versed in the practice of its laws, and enlightened by all the information necessary to form a comparison and connexion between them and the best of ancient and modern systems. He obtained a seat in the House of Commons in the year 1742, when he was in his thirty-eighth year, his faculties no less matured by experience than improved by study. He com- menced his parliamentary career as a supporter of Lord Bath’s ad- ministration, which was vehemently opposed by Mr. Pitt, and his eloquence was no less celebrated in the senate than at the bar. His language was natural yet elegant, arranged with method, and applied with the utmost ingenuity ; his images were often bold, always just ; his eloquence flowing, perspicuous, convincing and impressive. He was endowed with a most retentive memory, which rendered his re- plies irrisitible, from the facility of repelling the arguments of his adversaries, and exposing their fallacy, weakness,or absurdity. He affected no sallies of imagination, or bursts of passion, but made his appeal rather to the reason than the feelings, and did not even, when attacked, condescend te personal abuse, or petulant altercation. His speeches were characterized by acuteness, and recommended by clearness and candour ; his reasoning introducing itself so easily into the minds of his hearers, as to convey information and conviction ; occasionally forming a continual chain; and sometimes — in- to regular divisions. His manner was moderate and not presuming and dictatorial ; but expressive of that dignity which, a- rising from superiority, does not produce disgust. Though of low stature, his person was remarkable for ease and grace ; he possessed a piercing eye, a voice finely toned; his action was at once elegant and dignified, and his countenance replete with fire and vivacity. He supported through life the utmost consistency of political conduct, never courting popular applause, so much as the approbation of the
+ Ambitionem scriptoris facile adverseris : obtrectatio et livor pro- nis auribus accipiuntur. Quippe adulationi feedum crimen servitutis, malignitati falsa species libertatis inest. Tacit. lib, i, Histor.
me @
SSELSSSHCrers Eee.
1803. Adolphus’s History of England. 3e7
wise and good; yet not intimidated by the appearance of " or the fury of party, from pursuing that conduct, or i ae those sentiments, which were dictated by his own conviction. ‘loo mild to be the leader, too wise to be the dupe of any party, he was be- lieved to speak his own sense of public measures, The Hoyse of Lords paid greater deference to his authority, than to that of any other individual; and he was frequently consulted by the King. The perspicacious eye of envy and. jealousy could not establish a fault in his political conduct ;* and malignity was reduced to the miserable resource of extorting from his descent the means of direct implication, imputing to him those attachments and principles by which his relatives were influenced ; but which he had not, in his juridical or senatorial capacity,ever adopted. Lord Mansfield was a conspicuous and constant supporter of administration in the Ameri- can contest: in the year 1766, he had delivered his opinions on the subject of British authority, and American resistance, in the house of Lords; + and the judgment he then professed, appears always to have swayed him in every subsequent crisis.{ Vol. ip. 182-4. ‘Fox displayed at Eton and at Oxford an ardent attachment to classical literature, and gave presage of his future genius, by un- wearied application to Cicero and Demosthenes, and by preferring the Athenian to the Roman orator. Even in the earliest periods of life, and during all the vicissitudes of pleasure and dissipation, he was indefatigable in the exercise of his argumentative faculty, The indulgent partiality of his father supplied abundant means of grati- ing inclinations natural to a youth of warm passions, totally exempt rom restraint ; and his great talents were shrouded from the view of those who could not discern them through the veil of unbounded dissipation. He obtained a seat in parliament before the period of legal maturity, and was, in 1770, appointed a Lord of the Admiral- ty: but his support, though marked with all the ardour of his tem- per, and energy of his genius, was not yet deemed essential to the cause of government: he had more than once participated in the unpopularity of administration, without the credit of sharing the
* He was severely attacked by Wilkes, Junius, Andrew Stewart, and others; but even when party rage was highest, their efforts pro- duced only a elamour of the populace ; men of sound judgment in every rank, and of all parties, have since concurred in acknowledging the futility of the accusations. Author.
+“ Proceed then, my Lords,” he said, “ with spirit and firmness, ‘and when you shall have established your authority, it will then be “time to shew your lenity.” See Holliday’s Life of Lord Mans- field. Author.
t This delineation is derived from the characters of Lord Mans- field, by Bishop Newton, Dr. Johnson, Bishop of Worcester, and va- rious other authorities collected from Holliday’s Life of Lord Mans- field, p. 456, et seq. and from private information. Arnihor.
328 Adolphus’s History of England. Jan.
direction of their measures. In 1772, he resigned his situation at the Admiralty with marks of disgust, and was then expected to join the ranks of opposition.” The difference was, however, accommo- dated; and he soon afterwards + received a seat at the Treasury Board, from which be was dismissed in March 1774, with circum- stances which occasioned the most lively indiguation. To the period of his quitting the side of the minister, Mr. Fox was considered, by some as a man for whose political errors, and levity of conduct, youth and inexperience afforded charitable excuses: } “ but he soon discovered powers for regular debate, which neither his friends had hoped, ner his enemies dreaded.”§ The force of Fox’s oratory cannot be ade- quately described, and can be felt only by those who have heard him on important occasions. His speeches were luminous, without the appearance of concerted arrangement ; his mind seemed by its mas- terly force, to have compressed, reduced, and disposed the whole subject, with a confident superiority, fo systematic rule ; the torrent of his eloqueyce increased in force, as the subject expanded; the vehemence of his manner was always supported by expressions of correspoudent energy ; and the decisive terms in which he delivered his opinions, by precluding the possibility of evasion, impressed a full conviction of his sincerity, and gained regard even from the most inveterate opponent. The distinguishing characteristic of his ar- guments was profoundness ; his general aim was the establishment of some grand principle, to which all the other parts of his speech were subservient; and his genius for reply was singularly happy. He not only combated the principal reasonings of his adversaries, but extending @ generous protection to bis own partizans, rescued their speeches from ridicule or misrepresentation. The boldest con- ceptions, and most decided principles, uttered by bim, did uot ap- pear gigantic : he seldom employed exaggerated or (und ‘phraseolo- gy, and in the greatest warmth of political contest, few expressions escaped him, which can be cited to the disadvantage of his charac- ter as a gentleman. Rhetorical embellishments, though frequently found in his harangues, did not seem the produce of laborious cul- tivation, but spontaneous effusions. , Superior to art, Fox seemed to illustrate rules which perhaps he had not in contemplation; and the bold originality of bis thoughts and expressions would rather en- title him to be considered the founder of a uew style of eloquence, than a servile adherent to any established practice. Burke, studious and indefatigable, from his continually augmenting stores, poured knowledge into the mind of Fox: but in debate their manners were widely dissimilar. Fox depended on his natural and daily improving genius for argumentation: Burke on those beauties which his taste
* See Gibbon’s Posthumous Works, vol. i. p. 449. Author.
+ Oth January, 1773. Author.
t See Debates on Mr. Grenville’s Act, 25th February, 1774. Au- ther. § The expression of Gibbon.—See Posthumous Works, vol. i. p. 489. Author.
1803. Adolphus’s History of England, 329
and Jearping enabled him to collect and dispose with so much grace and facility : his speeches were listened to with admiration, as elegant pleadings ; but Fox was always elevated above his subject ; and | by energy of manner, and impetuosity of oratory, staggered the impar- tial, animated his adherents, and threw. uneasiness, alarm, aud aston- ishment, into the minds of his opponents. Vol. ii. p. 194-7.
One of the most important parts of the work, is the account given of the debates in Parliament. It is executed with judg- ment and industry ; and the eloquent extracts from some of the speeches add —_ much to the value of the work.
We have alreatly had occasion to praise the labour and industry which has been shewn by Mr- Adolphus in the book before us. It must, however, be observed, that there are some departments in which it appears defective, particularly in what relates to finance, to the internal goverrment of the country, and the other details of legislation. ‘The mere events of a campaign give but an imperfect idea of the state and strength of contending powers, In modern nations, more particularly in England, the state of public credit ; the operations of budget ; the means of supplying the ar- mies ; the effect of the different systems adopted in war and peace, upon trade and commerce ; are all of the highest importance. Though our author gives'a very full account of political events, he is very sparing of information upon these subjects, even of the military force employed by the contending powers. Much valuable information might be collected from the reports made to Parliament avd other sources. With the assistance of tables it might be detailed, without adding much to the size of the book ; and without further information on that subject, a history of Eng- lond, ‘especially during that period, must be very imperfect.
Our author intimates his intention of bringing his history fur- ther down. The further he goes, he will find a greater want of materials ; and we will venture to predict, that, if he perseveres, his work, in the course of afew years, will be of little value. It would give us pleasure to hear, that Mr. Adolphus’s industry and judgment were employed in completing a history of George the 1. and {I. where we conceive there is a much better field for his exertions. Many important materials are already known to the public, which would add greatly to the interest of his work ; and we are confident, that valuable additions might be made to them. The events are certainly sufficiently interesting ; and a compre- hensive, accurate, and candid account of (hem is much wanted.
On the whole, we have no hesitation in recommending the vo- lumes before us to the public, as an useful and interesting work. The future historian will not perhaps consult it for profound re-
VOL, I. NO, 2,
330 Adolphus’s History of England. San,
marks or extensive views: He will, however, ‘recur'to it ‘as ‘2 valuable magazine of facts, which will tend much to diminish the labour of his investigation.
Art. VIII, Voyage dans /a Basse et la Haute Egypte, pen- dant les Campagnes du General Bonaparte. Par Vivant Denon, Paris. Didot. 2 tom, Folio. _ 1802.
FFE* publications, we believe, have ever obtamed so extensive a circulation in the same space of time as these travels, The country to which they relate stands at the beginning of sacred and profane antiquity ; the splendid periods of its history were all gone by, before the barbarians of Europe had learned either to observe or record ; and the monuments that employed the pen- cil of M. Denon, had assumed the appearance of deserted ruins in the days of Strabo and Diodorus.
Since the origin of correct observation and minute inquiry in modern Europe, the political situation of Egypt has been such as to place all our travellers in circumstances of great disadvantage. Exposed to continual insult and suspicion on account of their re- ligion and their curiosity, they have been obliged to pursue their researches amidst a nation of bigots and banditti, and to snatcha hasty and imperfect view of objects that require the most deli- berate meditation. It is not easy for an infidel and an alien te travel at all among a people without police, and without morals ; and the fruits of his hasty and perilous expeditions, cannot often be very valuable, where his informers are equally destitute of knowledge and veracity.
At length, however, a civilized nation possessed itself of this wonderful country ; a whole college of philosophers was trans- ported to the city of the Ptolemies ; a printing-press was estab- lished at Cairo ; and the scholars of Europe consoled themselves for the violation ef the balance of power, by anticipating the sub- lime discoveries of the Egyptian institute. The appearance of some scaitered memoirs served only to exalt these expectations; and at last the present superb publication was announced, under the patronage of the Chief Consul, and at a price that could only be justified by the combination of splendour and utility.
‘The book is certainly sufficiently splendid ; and yet it has dis- memes us extremely. The author writes like a brisk little old Frenchman, with more vivacity than judgment, and more ease than perspicuity, His narrative is exceedingly perplexed, from the want of dates and the irregularity of his military movements; and the reader must be contented to take his skill in drawing as
1803. Denon’s Travels in Egypt. 331
an apology for his defects in erudition, and his admitted igno- rance in.all the branches of physical science. As to his oppor- éunities, there is no doubt that he talks of them very magnificent- ly in the outset of his expedition.
* T was going to break up, as it were, a new country; to be the first to see, and to see without prejudice ; to make researches in a part of the earth hitherto covered with the veil of mystery, and for two thousand years shut out from the curiosity of Europeans. From the time of Herodotus to the present, every traveller, following the steps of his predecessor, had only rapidly ascended the Nile, not da- ring to lose sight of his boat; and only quitting the shore for a few hours to burry a few hundred yards off, and visit, with anxiety, the nearest objects. For every thing beyoud the vicinity of the river, the oriental histories alone have been consulted.’ Vol. i. p. 360-361."
The truth is, that, beyond the vicinity of the river, there is nothing to be seen ; but our author himself was not Jong in dis- covering, that the advantage of being guarded by the division of an army might be more than compensated by the imperious ne- cessity of marching and halting along with it ; and by the perils to which he was exposed, by the hostility which the invasion of his countrymen had excited among the natives. The following passage is altogether in the French taste :—
‘ Here the pitiless reader, sitting quietly at his table with his map before him, will say to the poor, hungry, harassed traveller, exposed to all the trouble of war: “I see no account of Aphroditopolis:” Crocodilopolis, Ptolemais—what is become of all these towns ?7— What had you to do there, if you could not give any account of them? Had you nota horse to carry you, au army to protect you, and au interpreter to answer all your questions, and have not I relied upon you to give me some information on all these subjects? Bat, kind reader, please to recollect, that we are surrounded with Arabs and Mamelukes, and that, in all probability, I should be made pris- oner, pillaged, and very likely killed, if I had thought proper to venture only a hundred paces from the column to fetch some of the bricks of Aphroditopolis. The embanked quay which I saw in gal- loping to Minchia, was Ptolemais; and no other remains of this town exist.” Vol. ii. p. 22, 23.
This does not happen to be very correctly true ; because Po- coke observed various pedestals, cornices, and other ruins of gra- nite in the same place ; though it may easily be supposed that they escaped the notice of a galloping philosopher. In fact, the harassing service upon which the detachment of the army that as- cended the Nile was employed, and the rapid marches and counter- marches it was obliged to perform, made the opportunities of an
* We quote from the translation of Dr. Aikin. Y2
332 Denon’s Travels in Egypi. Jat,
artist extremely precarious ; and the universal detestation in which the invaders were held by the natives, rendered the condition of a straggler a thousand times more hazardous than that of those so- litary but pacific travellers, whose condition our author is pleased so frequently to commiserate. From this circumstance it has happened, that many of the splendid objects which other Euro- pean travellers have described did not fall under the observation of M. Denon. He did not visit Arsinoe, for instance, nor Anti- nopolis, Hypsele, nor Abydos. The fine ruins of Ombos, which are delineated both by Pocoke and Norden, he only sketched as the flotilla carried him past them on the river ; and twice passed through Thebes at the gallop, after being imprisoned for two months among the rubbish of Zaoyeh and Girgeh.
Though we cannot consider this book, therefore, as having made any very important addition to our knowledge of the Egyp- tian history of monuments, it would be unfair to allege that it is destitute of interest or information. It contains many beautiful engravings, and many striking and animated specimens of des- cription : it gives us, incidentally, at the same time, a great num- ber of curious traits of the character of the inhabitants, and cer- tainly affords the most candid and authentic detail of the situation and conduct of the French army, during the progress of their Egyptian conquest, that has yet been presented to the public. In endeavouring to lay before our readers a short abstract of what is most valuable in its contents, we shall separate the author’s observations, as an artist and a student of antiquity, from his narrative as a sharer in this memorable expedition, and an ob- server of manners and events, that cannot fail to interest by their novelty or importance. ‘The history of his adventures as a sol- dier and a Frenchman will naturally go before the slight sketch we shall be able to give of his observations on the antiquities of the country.
The republican army sailed, it is well known, for the generous purpose of redressing grievances ; and had nothing farther in view than the deliverance of the Egyptian innocents from the oppressions of their Mameluke governors. It is also pretty gene- rally known, that their exertions were repaid with the most signal ingratitude ; and that this perverse generation persisted in reject- ing their offers of fraternity with the most unaccountable animo- sity ; they even fabricated calumnies against their heroic deliver- ers,and circulated stories of their outrages and injustice, that found credit with the ill-informed or malignant. In the meantime, however, the crusaders said litile for themselves : we heard, in- deed, of their victories and proclamations, but could learn no- thing of their treatment of the conquered people, or of the pro-
gress of their Coptic disciples in civilization and morality. The
Soc «
th
ast wil ins
1803. Denon’s Travels in Egypt. 338
work of M. Denon presents us with much of this valuable infor- mation ; and the most interesting passages in his narrative are pro- bably those which contain the most characteristic traits of the dis- positions and demeanour of his companions.
The voyage from Europe need not detain us very long ; though there is something so characteristic, both of the man and of the nation, in our author’s remarks on the capture of Malta, that we must extract two sentences. When the surrender was announc- ed, he breaks out into an encomium on the gallantry and ancient splendour of the Knights of Jerusalem ; and adds—
‘ When I figured to myself this accumulating glory, acquired and preserved during several ages, melt away when opposed to. the for- tune of Bonaparte, I thought I heard the ghosts of Lisle-Adam and Lavallette vent their dismal lamentations, and I fancied I saw Time make to Philosophy the illustrious sacrifice of the most venerable of all illusions.” Vol. i. pp. 53, 54.
At a supper given to the Maltese Captains, he observes ;-—
‘ They saw, with equal surprise and admiration, the martial ele- gance ofour geverals, and the assemblage of officers, on whose coun- tenances beamed health and vigour, glory and hope. They were struck by the noble physiognomy of the commander in chief, the ex- pression of which seemed to augment his stature.’ Vol. i. p. 59.
This is only absurd; but, in the following page, we read with sentiments of more serious reprobation—
‘ The more respectible inhabitants, not yet recovered from their astonishment at the events which had taken place, kept themselves within doors; while our soldiers, heated by wine and by the climate, inspired so much terror among the trades people, and the lower classes, that they shut up their shops and hid their females,’ Vol. i. p- 60,
The critical escape of the French armament from the fleet of Lord Nelson is sufficiently known; but it is not perhaps very generally understood, how easy and how complete our victory would then have been. Two days after our fleet had sailed from Alexandria, Bonaparte appeared before that port, and M. De- non says, ‘it blew a fresh gale; and the convoy was blended with the fleet in such confusion, that the most terrible defeat would have ensued if the enemy had appeared. The soldiers, however, were landed, and appear to have experienced a pretty vigorous resistance, as our author very coolly observes, ‘ that they were under the necessity of putting the whole of their adver- saries to death at the breach.’ The greater part of the troops were marched off the very moment they were landed ; and, in
assing through the desert that extends from Alexandria to *hamania, experienced, for “ first time, that optical deception 3
334 Denon’s Travels in Egypit.. Jan.
which makes the burning surface of the sand assume the appear-
ance of a lake of water. ‘This appearance the French have de-
WR mirage; and the nature of it is thus explained by, M. non—
‘ It is an illusion produced by the mirage of salient objects on the oblique rays of the sun, refracted, by the heat of the burning soil.’ Vol. i. p. 122.
This explanation is, no doubt, completely satisfactory ; though it is rather a new notion, we believe, that the rays of the sun can be refracted by heat. The Mamelukes made their first attack on the invaders at the village of Embaby, and were repulsed with considerable loss. Our author breaks out, upon this occasion, into the following rapture :
‘In the midst of this carnage, the sublime contrast, which, on look- ing upwards, was afforded by the clear sky of this fine climate, was very striking.. A handful of French, led by a hero, had just subdued a quarter of the globe ; an empire had just changed its ruler ; and the pride ef the Mamelukes had been completely humbled by the bayonets of our infantry. During this great and terrible scene, the result of which was to become so important, the dust and smoke scarcely ob- seured the lower part of the atmosphere. The morning star, revolv- ing over a spacious horizon, peaceably terminated its career—a sub- linie testimony of that immutable order of nature, which obeys the decrees of the Eternal, in the calm stillness that renders it still more awful.’ Vol.i. pp. 129, 130.
M. Denon next proceeds to Rosetta with General Menou; and the only exploit performed in that quarter seems to have been the burning and fusilading ofa defenceless village, in consequence of some vague information, that a few straggling Frenchmen had been put to death by some of its inhabitants. After this, it is added, that some of the surviving fugitives ‘ came and presented all the fowls and geese they had to the soldiers, who put a period to the remorse by which they had been tormented for three weeks before.’ From the shores of Rosetta, M. Denon was a witness of the memorable engagement of Aboukir; and describes, in a ver picturesque manner, the awful spectacle of the night combat. It was not till four days after the battle that the result of it was known in that quarter. A considerable time after this, the au- thor, having occasion to go to Alexandria, passed by the scene of this terrible action. The following passage is in a better style than any we have yet extracted.
- «We reached the sea-side at midnight, when the rising moon light- ed up a new scene. The shore, to the extent of four leagues, was co- vered by wrecks, which enabled us to form an estimate of the loss we had sustained at the battle of Aboukir. To procure a few nails, or a few iron hoops, the wandering Arabs were employed in burning on the
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1803. Denon’s Travels in Egypt. 335
beach the masts, gun carriages, boats, &c. which had been constructed at so vast an expence in our ports, and even the wrecks of which were a treasure in a country where so few of these objects were to be found. The robbers fied at our approach ; and nothing was left but the bodies of the wretched victims, drifted onthe loose sand, by which they were half covered, and exhibiting there aspectacleas sublime as terrific. The sight of these distressing objects plunged my soul, by degrees, ina deep melancholy. I endeavoured to shun these terrifying spectres, but in vain : all those that came across me attracted my attention by their va- rious attitudes, and made different inrpressions on my mind. But a few months before, young, replete with health, courage, and hope, they had, by a noble effort, torn themselves from the embraces of their weeping mothers, sisters, and wives, and from tlie feeble struggles of their tender infants. All those by whom they were cherished, said I to myself, and who, yielding to their ardour had allowed them to depart, are still of- fering up prayers for their success, and for their safe return: waiting with avidity the news of their triumphs, they are preparing feasts for them, and counting the moments as they pass, while the objects of their expectation lie on a distant beach, parched up by a burning sand, and having their skulls already bleached.’ Vol. i. pp. 180, 182.
From Rosetta, M Denon set out with a party of aavans upon an excursion into the Delta; but, after creeping alittle way along among filthy and obscure villages, they were attacked by the na- tives, in a disorderly manner ; and scampered back, very much terrified, to head-quarters. He then sails up the Nile to Cairo, without giving any description of his route—visits the pyramids, and is besieged in the quarter of the Institute, during a very alarming insurrection that took place in the city. The cause and the conseqences of this disaster M. Denon explains in this man- ner :
* The timid and indolent Egyptians had smiled with satisfaction at the expulsion of their oppressors, who had harassed them with num- berless vexations and acts of injustice : but when they were called on to pay their deliverers, they soon began to regret their former tyrants: and, on recovering from their first panic, they had listened to their mufti, who found means to animate them against us with a fanatic enthusiasm, and they had conspired in silence. For our own security we ought, perhaps, to have spared none who had seen French sol- diers retire discomforted ; but our clemency anticipated their repen- tance ; and thus the desire of revenge in our enemies was not extin- guished by their consternation, which I could read the next day in the attitude and countenance of the malecontents; and I was con- vinced, that if, before the day of this engagement, we had been en- compassed by a circle of Arabs, we were now confined within nar- rower limits, and stvuld always be obliged to march through do- mestic fees.’ Vol. i. pp. 289, 290.
To secure themselves as much as possible against these misfor- tunes, General Dumas ‘ made a great carnage of the rebels ;’ an@
Y4
336 Denon’s T’ravels in Egypt. Jan.
guns were placed in such a manner as to command the chief ave- nues of the city.
Murad-Bey, the great leader of the Mamelukes, had retired to Upper Egypt, after his discomfiture at Embaby; and General De- saix was now despatched with a force of 7000 infantry and 1200 cavalry to pursue him, and reduce that country to aye 7 a M. Denon, whose principal object was the delineation of the superb monuments in that region, was attached to this division, and set out along with it in the beginning of August 1799, The day af- ter his arrival at head quarters, a column of 300 men was sent out to raise a requisition of buffaloes and horses, over and above the ancient mirz, or land-tax: and this oppressive conduct is jus- tified by the example of the Mamelukes, and by a sentence from Diodorns, purporting, that it was always necessary to beat an E- gyptian, in order to get any thing from him!—On the 26th of August, the French and Mameluke armies approached each other in the neighbourhood of Sedinam, and engaged in the severest conflict that seems to have taken place in the course of the whole expedition. “The following description is probably a little exag- gerated, but it is animated, at least, and extraordinary,
« At the first dawn of day we formed in a hollow square battalion, with two platoons on our flanks. Soon after we saw Murad-Bey at the head of his formidable Mamelukes, and eight or ten thousand Arabs advancing to us, covering a league of the plain. A valley separated the two armies, which we had to cross to reach our enemies, We were hardly got to this unfavourable position, when the enemy surround us on all sides, and charge us with au intripidity approaching to fury - our close files render their numbers useless; our musketry keep up a steady fire, and repel their first attack ; they halt, fall back, as ifre. tiring from the field, and suddenly fall upon one of our platoons, and overwhelm it: all who are not killed, immediately throw themselves on the ground, and this movement uncovers the enemy to our grand square; then we take advantage of it, and pour in our fire, which again makes them halt and fall back. All that remain of the platoon enter the ranks, and we collect the wounded. We are again attacked in mass, not with the cries of victory, but of rage: the courage is equal on both sides: they are animated by hope, we by indignation : our musket barrels are cut with their sabres ; their horses fall against our files, which receive the shock unshaken ; the horsesare startledat our bayo- nets; and their riders turn their heads, and back them upoa us, to open our ranks by their kicks: our people, who knew that their safety con- sisted in remaining united, press on without disorder, andattack without breaking their ranks; carnage is on all sides; but each party fight with- out-mixing with the other, At last, the fruitless attempts of the Ma- melukes urge them to a madness of rage; they throw at us their arms, which otherwise could not reach us; and, as if this were to be their bast battle, they shower upon us their guns, pistols, hatchets, and the
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1805. Denon’s T’ravels in Egypt. 337
ground is strewed with arms ofall kinds. ‘Those who are dismount- ed drag themselves under our bayonets, and cut at our soldiers’ legs with their sabres : the dying man summons his last effort to throttle his adversary. One of our men lying on the ground, was seizing an expiring Mameluke, and strangling bim:” an officer said to him, “ How can you, in your condition, do such an act?” “ You speak much at your ease,” the man replied, “ you whoare unhurt; but I, who have not long to live, must have some enjoyment while I may.” Vol. i. pp. 333-6.
This M. Denon calls a great victory ; but from his own ac- count it appears rather to have been a great escape, since the ene- my was not pursued in his retreat, ahd since Desaix found himself under the necessity of returning to Cairo immediately after, for reinforcements. . Upon resuming his march, he advanced from Faium to Benesuef; and from that station by Hermopolis to Siut, levying contributions according to the prescription of Diodorus, and using every exertion to come up with the fugitive and inde- fatigable enemy. From Siut, however, the column was again forced to advance ; and—
‘ After marching thirteen hours, we came in the evening toGame- rissiem, unfortunately for this village; for the cries of the women soon convinced us that our soldiers, profiting by the darkness of the night, under pretence of seeking provisions, and notwithstanding their wea- riness, were enjoying, by violence, the gratifications which the place
offered them. The inhabitants, pillaged, dishonoured, and urged to desperation, fell upon the patroles whom we sent to defend them ; and these, attacked by the furious natives, were killing them in their own defence, for want of being able to explain their object, and to make themselves understood.’ Vol. ii. pp. 12, 13.
This was rather disorderly for the most generous and best dis- ciplined troops in the universe. But we should suspect that something still worse took place on another occasion, from M. Denon’s silence as to the particulars ; he says—
* We arrived at eleven at a large village, the name of which I could never learn, and where, unfortunately for their reputation, and to the great misfortune of the inhabitants, our soldiers misbe- haved.’ Vol. ii. p. 61.
At Girgeh, the modern capital of Upper Egypt, the army found great plenty of every thing.
‘ Bread was one sous the pound; twelve eggs, two sous; two pi- geons, three sous; and a goose weighing fifteen pounds, we got at twelve sous :—could this be poverty? Such too was the abundance of these articles, that after more than five thousand of us had re- mained here three weeks, and had increased the consumption, and scattered out money, no rise in the demand for these necessaries had taken place.’ Vol. ii. pp. 25, 26.
338 Denon’s Travels in Egypt. Jan,
Upen leaving this place, information was received of the arri- val of a great multitude of zealous Mussulmen from Meeca, who had joined themselves to Murad-Bey, to assist in driving the French out of the country. ‘The following passage may help te explain the cause of this irreconcilable hostility.
*On the 13th, we were informed that our cavalry. bad fallen in with a number of the enemy at Mensheith, had put to the sword a thousand of these deluded people, and had pursued their march. This was certainly not a lesson of fraternization; but our pesition per- haps rendered an act of severity necessary : this province, which had always the reputation of being very turbulent and very formidable, required to be taught that they could not brave us with impunity: it was, besides, our policy to conceal from them, that our means were small, and our resources dispersed ; and to give them the impression of our being as vindictive when provoked, as mild when treated with re- spect; and that we should punish severely these who were disposed te doubt that altwe didwas finally for their own good.’ Vol. ii. pp. 37, 38.
The army proceeding to the southward had a rencounter with 2000 Arabs on horseback, and 6000 peasants on foot. The horsemen galloped off after a few pe lk “ deserting their
poor infantry,” says M. Denon, who were sabred as usual.” he
French thea pillage the unoffending town of Farshiut, and a forced march is ordered at midnight, to escape from the cla- mour and reproaches of the inhabitants. .M. Denon then passes by Dindera, where he examines the ruins, and pays a hasfy. visit to Thebes and Latopolis The troops then pursued their desola- ting march to Elephantine and Syene, where their head- quarters were established for a eonsiderable time In an excursion up the river, by which the Egyptian Fabius had retreated into Nubia, a cruel and unnecessary attack was made upon the little island of Phile, when such was the horror that had been excited by the deportment of the invaders, that ‘“ parents were seen drowning the children they could not carry away, and mutilating their daughters to save them from the violence of the victors.” The termination of the march of the French through Egypt was in- scribed on a granite rock beyond the cataracts; and intelligence having been received that the Mamelukes had gone down by the desert, and were again collecting on the river, Desajx abandoned Syene, and embarked upon the stream to overtake them. M. Denon now passed Latopolis and Thebes by water, and after slightly inspecting Hermontis, came down to Kous, where the whole division halted At this place they learned that the flo- tilla, with a great part of their baggage and artillery, had been captured by the Meccan auxiliaries; and that they were drawn up in force to receive them on the plain of Benhute, in the
1803. Denon’s T'ravels in Egypt. 339
neighbourhood. A very desperate action ensued. The enemy fired upon the French with their own artillery and ammunition ; and after an obstinate resistance, retired to a large fortress, after killing sixty of their opponents. ‘The French were twice re
ed in an attempt to storm their fortress. At length they endea- voured to set it on fire ; and this horrible expedient succeeded,
‘As they were without water, they extinguished the fire with their feet and hands, and even endeavoured to smother it, by throw- ing themselves on it. They were seen black and naked, rannin througl: the flames, and resembling so many devils in hell.’ Vol. it. p- 212. :
This terrible situation they endured for the whole night.
* During the last twelve hours, the besieged had been without wa- ter; their walls were heated through; their swollen tongues choked up the passage of the air; and, in short, their situation was terrible, In reality, a few minutes after, and an hour before the break of day, thirty of the besieged, who were the best armed, forced a passage through one of our advanced posts. At day-break, our troops entered by the breaches the fire had made, and put to the sword those who, notwithstanding they were half roasted alive, still offered a resistance. One of them, who appeared to be a chief, was brought to the gene- ral. He was in so swollen a state, that, in endeavouring to stoop to seat himself, his skin cracked in every part. “Tf,” said he, “1 am breught hither to be killed, I beg that you will hasten to put me out of my misery.” Vol. ii. pp. 215, 216,
The French lost nearly 200 men in those encounters, and were almost totally destitute of ammunition. They intrenched them- _selves, therefore, at Keneh, till supplies were received ; and seem afterwards to have dispersed over the adjoining country in quest of their flying enemies. The sufferings of the unoffending natives, in consequence of these operations, seem to have been such as to excite the regrets of M. Denon. After observing that the diffi- culty of distinguishing their enemies by their complexion, &c. was the cause of their ‘ continually putting the innocent peasants to the sword,” he makes the following reflections upon the condi- tion and treatment of these poor people, which present a most extraordinary, and, we believe, an impartial picture of the gene- ral conduct of the French in this country.
‘ The situation of the inhabitants, for whose happiness and prospe- rity we were no doubt come to Egypt, was no better. If, through terror, they had been obliged to quit their houses on ourapproach, on their return, after we were withdrawn, they could find nothing but the mud of which the walls were formed. Utensils, ploughs, doors, roofs, every thing, in short, of a combustible nature, had been burned for cooking ; and the earthen pots broken, the corn consumed, and the
340 Denon’s T'ravels in Egypt. Jan.
fowls and pigeons roasted and devoured. Nothing was to be found, except the bodies of their dogs, killed inendeavouring to defend the property of their masters. If we made any stay in a village, the un- ortunate inhabitants, who had fled on our approach, were summon- ed to return, under penalty of being treated as rebels who had juin- ed the enemy, and of being made to pay double contributions. When they submitted to these threats, and came to pay the miri, it sometimes happened that they were so numerous, as to be mistaken for a body of men in arms, and their clubs considered as muskets ; in which case they were sure of being assailed by several discharges from the riflemen and patroles, before an explanation could take place. Those who were killed were interred; and the survivors re- mained friends with us, until a proper opportunity presented itself for retaliation. It is true, that, provided they did not quit their dwell- ings, but paid the miri, and supplied the wants of the army, they not only spared themselves the trouble of ajourney, and avoided the unpleasant abode of the desert, but saw their provisions eaten with regularity, and might come in fortheir portion of them, preserving a part of their doors, selling their eggs to the soldiers, and having few of their wives and daughters ravished.’ Vol, ii. pp. 44-66.
After this, it is needless to pursue our detail of cruelties and disorders any farther. We shall add one other specimen, how- ever, of the vigour with which the work of regeneration was pursued. The indefatigable Murad had excited some disturbance in Beneadi, a town in the neighbourhood of Coptos, containing 1¥,000 inhabitants. To repress these, a detachment of cavalry and artillery was despatched.
‘The troops, animated with the hope of plunder, in an instant swept away the whole village: those of the inhabitants that escaped, joined the remuant of the Meccans, marched against Miniet, and were put to the sword in a second encounter.’ Vol. ii. p. 305,
M Denon, after visiting once more the ruins of Tentyra and Thebes, accompanied a detachment of the army from Keneh to Casseir, upon the Red Sea; and, after a stay of no more than two days, returned by the same route, accomplishing the whole expedition in the short space of a single week. He afterwards accompanied a division that was appointed to make a circuit through the conquered country ; and found many opportunities of making drawings of ruins and hieroglyphics, at Luxor, at Etfu, and among the tombs of the kings at Thebes.
Immediately after his return from this excursion, he embark- ed.on the Nile for Cairo, where he arrived just as the command- er in chief was setting out to give battle to the Turks, who had disembarked at Aboukir. Out of 20,000 men, who were en- camped on that spot, 6000 were made prisoners, 4000 left dead on the field, and 10,000 driven into the sea and drowned.
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1803. Denon’s Travels in Egypt. 842
Within twelve days after this signal victory, Bonaparte embark- ed in the night at Alexandria, along with M. Denon ; busied himself with chemistry and geometry during the passage ; and arrived safely at the | of Frejus, after passing through the British squadron in a fog.
Such, in the abstract, is M. Denon’s account of this memo- rable expedition ; and such are a few of the new lights which his narrative has thrown on the conduct of it! We feel much admiration for the magnanimity of the Chief Consul, in patroni- zing the work that contains them; and leave them, without commentary, to the meditation of our readers. M. Denon, however, did not go to Egypt as tlie historiographer of his pa- tron’s exploits : he went to describe and delineate the monu- ments of its ancient grandeur. And it is time to make a few observations upon the manner in which this part of his task has. been performed.
The characters of the Egyptian architecture have long been known to the inquisitive: Gigantic in all its proportions, it seems rather to have aimed at overwhelming the imagination by vastness, than at enchanting it by elegance ; and while ideas of grandeur and of power are irresistibly excited by the enormous masses that are piled into regularity by human labour; we are oppressed by a certain cumbrous and severe uniformity of exe- cution, that banishes every idea of inventive freedom, and indi- cates the designs of an insulated and monastic corporation. A temple upwards of two miles in circumference, constructed of stones from 15 to 36 feet in length, supported by columns 50 feet high, and i2 in diameter, and adorned with obelisks of a single stone 100 feet in elevation, and with colossal statues mea- suring from 50 feet to 80, may serve to give some idea of those stupendous structures, the memory of whose origin has been forgotten for centuries, and which still promise to survive all the generations of mankind. We have already insinuated that M. Denon’s publication has not added very materially to our know- ledge of those monuments. We do not know, indeed, that he pretends to have made a single discovery. He has given fewer plans than either Pocoke or Nordon, and is infinitely less distinct in his descriptions, and less learned in his references, than the former of these travellers. He has made much better, and more numerous drawings, however, than any of his predecessors, and has presented the groups of objects in a much clearer and more picturesque manner. fis views in the islands of Philo: and Ele- _phantine are a great deal more perfect ; and he has copied the paintings and engraved hieroglyphics in the tombs at Thebes, and the temple of Tentyra, much more correctly and extensive- ly. ‘He has intermingled a variety of critical remarks and ani-
342 Denon’s Travels m Lgypt. Jan.
mated reflections also, that give a certain dramatic interest to his descriptions, and indicate a cultivated taste and an inflamed imagination. We shall give a very short sketch of his observa- tions.
Lower Egypt afforded but few materials for his art or his enthusiasm. Phe pillar at Alexandria he su to have been erected in the time of the Caliphs, and imagines it to have be- longed to some gigantic edifice, the portico or atrium of which he thinks may still be discovered, by digging in the loose ground in the vicinity. Some mutilated fragments of cornices and co- lossal statues led him to fix the site of Canopus a few leagues to the westward of Alexandria. ‘To our former description of the pyramids he has added nothing : he is enchanted, however, with the ‘ mild, gracious and tranquil expression,’ in the countenance of the sphinx, and does not stay to peep into the catacombs. The first entire specimen of Egyptian architecture he meets with in the famous portico of the temple of Hermopolis ; and his raptures are sufficiently high
‘ A peasant who should be drawn out from his cottage, and placed before such a building as this, would believe that there must exist 2 wide difference between himself and the beings who were able to con- struct it: and, without having any idea of architecture, he would say this is the work of a ged; a man could not dare to inhabit it. Vol. i. pp. 380, 381.
The degenerate natives do not carry their ideas quite so high ; but M. Denon assures us, that while sitting among the ruins of Luxor, he was seriously asked by one of their Sheiks, whether it was the French or the English that had erected these monu- ments ?
He comes next to Tentyra, which he has drawn with great elegance and distinctness, to Latapolis and Thebes. The follow- ing reflections seem natural and judicious.
‘ Our national impatience was dismayed with the constancy of ap- plication exhibited by the people who had executed these monu- ments: throughout was shewn equal care and equal assiduity ; which would make one believe that these edifices were not the works of their kings, but that they were constructed at the expense of the nation, under the direction of colleges of priests, and by artists whose labours were circunrscribed by invariable rules. A series of years might, indeed, have brought the arts to a higher degree of perfection in some particulars ; but each temple is so equally finished in all its parts, that they appear all to have been executed by the same hand ; no one portion is better or worse than any other; there appears neither negligence, nor the bold strokes of & more exalted genius ; uniformity and harmony prevail throughout. The art of sculpture, here made subservient aud attached to that of architecture, appears to have been circumscribed in principle, in method, and in style of exe~
1803. Denon's Travels in Egypt. 334
cution ; @ single figure expresses nothing, when taken out of its ex- act station in the group iv which it is a part; the seaiptor had bis design chalked out for bim, and could not satroduce any deviatiun which might alter the true meaving that it was intended to convey : it was with these figures, as with the cards that we use for our games, the imperfection of design is overlooked, that no cbstacle may arise in instantly distinguishing the value of each, Vol. ii. pp. 72,73.
With the huge temples of Carnac and Luxor he seems some- what out of humeur, because they are teo large to be distinctly represented upon paper. A village, containing 3000 souls has been erected on the ruins of a part of the latter; and yet M. Denon informs us, that its vast courts and galleries have all the grandeur and desolation of an uninhabited ruin ; the buts that are built on the roofs and in the corners having the appearance of swallows’ nests in our houses, which defile them without al- tering or concealing their general appearance! After having wandered among these stupendous remains, M. Denon makes the following striking and characteristic reflections.
* Still temples, nothing but temples! and not a vestige of the hun- dred gates so celebrated in history ; no walls, quays, bridges, baths, or theatres; not a single edifice of public utility or convenience ; uotwithstanding all the pains which I took in the research, I could find nothing but temples, walls covered with obscure emblems ; and hieroglyphics, which attested the ascendency of the priesthood, who still seemed to reign over these mighty ruins, and whose empire con- stantly haunted my imagination.’ Vol. ii. pp. 195, 196.
And afterwards—
«1 still admire with awe the organization of such a government ; its stupendous remains yet excite the mingled sensations of respect and dread. ‘The divinity, in sacredotal habits, holds in one hand a book, and in the other a flail: the former, no doubt, to restrain, and the latter to punish :. every thing is measured by the law, and en- chaived by it. The 'fine arts, subject to the same severe restrictions, bend under the weight of fetters, and their suaring genius is pinion- ed to the earth. The unveiled emblem of generation, traced even in the sanctuary of the temples, aunounces, that to destroy pleasure it was converted into a duty; not a single circus, not a single thea- tre, not a single edifice for public recreation; but temples, but mys- teries, but initiations, but priests, but sacrifices; ceremonies for pleasures ; for luxury, sepulchres.’ Vol. ii. pp. 238, 289.
Among the most valuable and original of the drawings with which M. Denon has presented us, are the representations of those paintings and reliefs which still continue to adorn the tombs of the kings and other excavations at Thebes, and the cells adjoining to the temple of ‘Tentyra. In the former he
344 Denon’s Travelsin Egypt. dan.
found four the walls of which were covered respec- tively with di t. sorts of arms, with implements of agricui- These pais rope : ye ee me a
intings which are said to be in preservation, Seed ccnaess tions ok tie commanied the ancient Egyptians, and the most decisive evidence of the progress they had made in the arts. War chariots, drawn by two and by four horses, form a t object in these re rN the temple, the sculpture represents persons vaulting over ropes, died Menten enchind hippy olla. decent remember that the graver Egyptians are ever themselves exhibited as perform- ers in a dance.
Our limits will not permit us to make any observations upon the zodiac, and other astronomical delineations that M. Denon has copied from the painted ceilings of Tentyra ; but we cannot omit his account of the discovery of an ancient alphabetical man- uscript which he found in the hand of a mutilated mummy that was brought to him by the Arabs for sale.
‘ The reader should be a traveller, an inquirer, and an amateur, to sympathise with my rapture on this occasion. When it was brought me, I felt that I turned pale with anxiety: I was going to express my indignation at those who had violated the integrity of this mummy, when | perceived in its right band, and resting on the left arm, a roll of papyrus, on which was a manuscript, that I should perhaps have never seen without this violation. I then blest the avarice of the Arabs, and my good fortune, which had put me in possession of such a treasure, which I hardly dared to touch for fear of injuring this sacred manuscript, the oldest of all the books in the known world. I could not venture to entrust it out of my sight, and all the cotton of my bed was devoted to wrapping it up with the utmost care. What could be its contents? Was it the history of this personage, the remarkable events of his life? Was the period ascertained by the date of the sovereign under whom he lived? or did this precious roll contain maxims, prayers, or the history of some discovery ? — Vol. iii. pp. 71, 72. :
We do not pretend to be able to decypher this manuscript, and do not recollect to have heard of any communication having been made to the public in relation to it. M. Denon observes, that the same character and sets of characters recur repeatedly in the course of it.
We cannot take our leave of these co/ossal volumes without entering our protest against such a form of publication. M. Denon’s taste has been formed perhaps upon the gigantic monu- ments of the Thebaid, and will relish no book that is not as large as a pannel charged with hieroglyphics ; but in this quar-
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1806.
the page is turned to no sort of use; most of the views
ziven in small ay mee that do not occupy one eighth
of the sheet, and t pin rhein Sra ented a single subject in no instance but the fanciful representation of two battles with the Mamelukes. We are the more inclined to censure the inju- dictous magnitude of these volumes, as there is nothing either in the style or the matter of M. Denon, that tallies with so much magnificence. He has made some fine drawings of monuments that had been drawn before, and brought away some slight sketches of hieroglyphics that had not been previously copied; and he has recorded his observations and adventures in a
and familiar style, that partakes less of dignity than of pertness ; and seems better adapted for the undress of an occasional pam- phlet, than for the monumental vastness of such a publication
as the present.
Art. LX. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe, pendant les regnes de Lowis XV. et de Louis XVI. &c. MSS. trouvés dans le Cabinet de Louis XVI. Seconde Edition. Consider- ablement augmentée. Par. L. P. Segur !’Ainé, Exambassa- dear. Stom. 8vo. pp. 1238. a Paris. Chez Buisson, An. 9. (1801.)
fe balance of power, and the natural system of internation-
al relations which has grown up in modern ee have afforded to one class of politicians perpetual subject of ridicule and invective, and to another class the constant opportunity of defending or attacking every measure, of discussing, or affect- ing to discuss, every political subject, by a reference to certain terms of art and abstract ideas, of which it is fair to suspect that they little understood the meaning and the force.
Of these reasoners or declaimers, the former sect are undoubt- edly the most dangerous. The refinements of modern y which have sprung from the progressive improvement of the hu- man species, and have, in their turn, secured that progress, and accelerated its pace, are in no danger of being either corrupted, or brought into disrepute, by the petulance of pretended statesmen. But the sophistries and eavibs which political scepties and innova- tors have founded, partly on a misconception of the theory, and partly on a misstatement of the facts, tend directly to a degrada- tion of the system in the eyes of superficial reasoners, and may
VOL. 1, NO, 2 Z
346 Politique de tous les Cabinets. de ? Europe. Jan.
ultimately repew a state of things, from which the unassisted efforts of national heroism would be altogether unable to redeem: any one community,
The attacks of those ‘men have, moreover, been extremely inconsistent and contradictory. While, at one time, they main-
tain, that the idea of a political equilibrum is t with every species of absurdity, and would , if carried into the actual affairs of nations, those very evils which the sysiem is ex- tolled for preventing : at another time, we are told that the no- tien is simple and obvious ; that it arises naturally out of the pas- sions of men; that it is no refinement of modern statesmen, but has influenced the councils.of princes and commonwealths in all ages. of the world. Now—the balance of power is an unintel- ligible jargon, invenied to cover every scheme ; to. furnish pre- texts for every act of national injustice ; to lull the jealousy of the people in any emergency ; or to excite their alarms upon any occasion. Now—it is useless and superfluous ; an inter- ference with the natural order of things; or an attempt to effect that which would happen at any rate. Now—it is pernicious in the extreme ; the parent of wars and offensive alliances ; the ex- citing cause of national violence ; the watchword of ambitious princes and destroying commonwealths ; a refinement only of in- justice ; and a system of nothing but treachery or caprice. It is very manifest, without any argument, that the system of modern policy cannot be liable to all those accusations at once, and that the declaimers, who have used such language with respect to it, must have been talking of very different things at different times. But as the foreign policy of nations was never, at any period of modern story, so interesting as at present, we shall proceed to offer afew observations upon that system which has been solittle understood, and which is the foundation of the important work now under review.
The national jealousy, by which at all times the European states are animated, and which ranges them on different sides in each public crisis, has been denominated, not a principle of po- licy, but a national emotion. Nations, it is said, like the indivi- duals which compose them, are moved by caprice, and actuated by passions ; excited to contention by envy and hatred ; soothed to reconciliation when exhausted by the efforts of their enmity ; leagued in friendship by the dictates of an interested prudence; united together by the thirst of plunder ; or combined for the
ification of some common revenge. The principle (we are told) which has been ae tp called the great spring of civi- lized policy, is ec nothing more than a systematic indulgence of those natural feelings that impel the savage to attack his more wealthy neighbour, or unite rival hordes in a temporary friend-
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1805. Politique'de tous tes Cabinets de ? Europe. 347
ship, whew invaded by a powerfal and common . The
y (it ivadded) which we have heard extolled as the grand arcanum? of modern statesmen, and dignified with the title of a system, is nothing more than the natural result of a conflict be- tween desire of conquest and of security, refined on by ingenious when, and spun into a regular theory.
‘Phese remarks are partly true, and partly unfounded It is true; that nations are guided by haman councils, and subject, of course, to the passions and caprices of men ; but it is no less cer- tain, that the more regularly any system of government is esta- blistted, the more will men of sober_ minds acquire a weight in the management of affairs; and that the longer the art of administer- ing the concerns of empires is practised, prudence will gain the
ter ascendency over passion. It is true, that the dictates of
feelings not always amiable, and often’ outrageous, are frequent- ;
ly, more’than any impulse of reason, the springs which actuate the operations of states ; but it is equally true, that in all animals the passions themselves are implanted for the wisest of purposes ; that instinet is the principle to which, more than reason, the pre- servation of life, and the maintenance of order in the universe, must be ascribed ; and that national councils may be operatin what no foresight could combine, while they appear to be sway only by prejudice and passion. ‘The existence of rude states is indeed frequently preserved, and their civilization insured, by the operation of principles, to assist the development of which is the great pride of the most learned and skilful statesmen: yet, the want of this assistance in those rude times, and the want of a con- stant superintendence and control, which renders the popular feel- ings useful in one case, and harmless in another, is certainly the cause of that instability of national power, and those perpetual changes in dominion—those constant broils, and that state of un- ceasing insecurity, to which we may attribute the many revo~ lutions in the situation of savage communities, and the long con- tinuance of their barbarism.
That the system which we are now considering has oftentimes been abused, no one can deny. What human institution can defend itself from this charge? But many of the evils which are ascribed to the principle in question, have been owing only to an erroneous conception of its nature. Many of them have arisen from failing to carry the line of policy recommended by it, to the lengths which it enjoins; and, in not a few instances, those events which have been deemed pernicious, would have proved altogether fatal, had not its influence modified and controlled them. We are desired, with no small appearance of triumph, to view the history of the last century ; pe mark the manifold wars which the balancing system produced ; the various intrigues
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34 Politeque de sous les Cabinets de ¢ Europe. Jan.
to which it gave rise; the destructive conquests of which it fur- nished the pretext ; and the natienal catastrophes which it could not avert. But hadit not been for that wholesome jealousy of rival neighbours, which modern politicians have learned to che- trish, how many conquests and changes of dominion would have taken place, instead of wars, in which a few useless.lives were lost, and some superfluous millions were squandered? How many fair portions of the globe might have been deluged in bleed, in- stead of some hundreds of sailors fighting harmlessly on the bar- ren plains of the ocean, and some thousands of soldiers carrying on a seientific, and regular, and quiet, system of warfare, in countries set apart for the purpose, and resorted to as the arena where the disputes of nations may be determined? We may indeed look to the history of the last century as the proudest ara in the annals of the species; the period most distinguished: for learning, and skill, and industry ; for the milder virtues, and for common sense ; for refinement in government, and an equal diffusion of liberty ; above all, for that perfect knowledge of the arts of administration, which has established certain general rules of conduct among nations ; has prevented the overthrow of em- pires, and the absorption of weak states into the boedies.ef de- vouring neighbours; has set bounds to the march of conquest, and rendered the unsheathing of the sword a measure of the last adoption ; whereas, in other times, it was always resorted to in the first instance. In the beginning of that ceniury, we saw the gigantic power of France humbled by a coalition of princes, each resalved to , undergo immediate loss, and run a great present risk, in order to prevent the greater chance of ruin at the distance of a few years. In ancient times the Stadtholder would have been more / jealous of Britain or Austria, than of France. The great. Mo- nareh, like Caesar, would have found a Divitiacus in the heart of the empire. By splitting the neighbouring potentates into adverse factions, and fighting one against the other, he would, inafew years, have subjugated the whole. No power would then have conceived that common. prudence required an imme- diate sacrifice of peace, in order to ward off a distant peril. All would have waiied quieily till the invasion came on; then, fight- ing with a desperate, but an insulated valour, all would. have been.conquered in detail by the ambitious enemy of Europe ; and the story of the Roman Empire would have been renewed, when submission to foreign power, aad loss of liberty, and. in- verruption of peaceful pursuiis, were no longer the phantoms of vulgar terror, or the themes of idle declamation, but real, and imminent, and inevitable, calamities.
1908. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 349
In the middle of the century, we indeed saw an ancient crown despoiled of its hereditary provinces ; and the neighbouring states in vain attempting to crush the new-born energies of the Prussian ‘power. It is, however, extremely doubtful whether the princi- ples of an enlightened policy would not have favoured the rise of & power, whose and natural’ object was the balancing of the Imperial House, and the protection of the smaller princes of the empire, against the preponderating, and formerly absolute, sway’of the Austrian monarchs. And, at any rate, admitting the other powers to have’ been actuated by no such views, it is clear that the success of the Silesian usurpation must be attributed to the actual dereliction of the balancing system, and not to its in- efficacy ; for; both in the Silesian‘ and in the seven years war,* the part of Prussia was openly espoused by some of the great
wers; in the former, by France and’ Bavaria; in the latter,
t by England, and then by Russia herself. ‘The preservation and accurate adjustment of the balance might perhaps have re- quired some such event as the acquisition which Prussia actually made; but if the immediate object of the system, the mainte- nance of the established division of power, was held to be a more important consideration, it is clear that the part of Prussia ought not to have been taken by France and Bavaria, in the one case, or by England and Russia in the other, until the usurped domi- nions-of Austria had been restored ; and then the allies of that power ought instantly to have deserted her, if she did not remain satisfied with the fruits of theirinterference.
Soon after the seven years war was terminated, the dismem- berment of an ancient n kingdom was projected by the powers who had been most exhausted in the Silesian contest, and who wished to indemnify themselves for their losses at the expense of the Poles. ‘The success of this iniquitous transaction, although it only demonstrates that the modern system has not been carried to its proper length, that'it is incapable of changing the nature of men, or disarming the ambition and ity of princes, has been always queted by a certain set of politicians, as an ted: proof of the futility and inefficacy of the great principle of mo- dern ics. That calamitous event is indeed a sufficient proof, that the statesmen of Europe had for a while forgotten their most sacred principles, and that the princes who did not interfere to prevent it, were blind to their best interests. Itserves, therefore, to shew us what would be the situation of the world, were the maxims of ancient times to be revived, and the salutary system of
* It is well known that the peace of Dresden was only a truce; that the war of 1756 owed its origin to the cause of the former con- test; and that the possession of Silesia was only secured by the peace of Hubertsburgh. 2
3
350 Politique de tous. les Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan.
modern Europe to Jose its influence over the councils of states ; but, for this very reason, the partition of Poland cannot, with any truth, be said to prove the inefficacy of those prinei by acting in direct opposition to which, the great powers.of Europe permit- ted it fo happen. If, however, the policy of the neighbouringstates vided no check to the injustice of the parti ers, the | arate of the balancing system upon the conduct of those par- ties themselves was productive of the most important and bene- Geial effects. Had. the ancient maxims of national indifference and insulation prevailed inthe cabinets of prinees at the erisis of Polish atlairs in 1772, the distracted state of that unhappy coun- try would indeed have called in the interference of foreign foree. But this interference would have proceeded from one quarter alone. Poland would have been overwhelmed, and its vast re~ sources appropriated, by one only of the conterminous powers, probably by the Russian empire, which would thus have suddenly acquired a preponderance fatal to the rest of Europe ; and; with- out receiving any checkin the proportional a i of the neighbouring states, would have been enabled to stretch its resistless arm into the very heart of the great western common- wealth. But the prevalence of that national jealousy, and anxious =ttention to the affairs of other states, which is the master prin- cipic of the modern system, prevented the usurpation of Russia, even at. the moment when she was actually mistress of the king- dom, garrisoned the capital with her troops, and ruled the nation- al councils by a viceroy, under the name of ambassador. With all these circumstances in her faveur, she was not even the first proposer of the partition. Her naturalenemies, Austria and Prus- sia, actually gained a greater share of the spoil; and, instead of Rat» the first vietims of her extended empire, as they infallibly would have been in ancient times, they have themselves acquired, at the same moment, an increase of resources, which enables them effectually to withstand the augmented force of her power: Alihough, then, it is extremely absurd to adduce the partition of Poland.as an instance of the balancing system, (a‘er the man- ner of the Prussian statesmen*), it is equally ridiculous to assert, that it proves. the inefficacy of that system; or to deny that the rest. of Europe has been saved by the influence of those i ples upon the parties in the usurpation, which should have'led the other great powers of Europe to prevent it. it is searcely neces-
* Count Hertzberg, (the King’s first minister in 1772), in'a specu- jativé essay on this subject, gives the partition as.an apposite case of the balancing system. It was made, he says, “Selon les, principes d'une balance dont les trois puissances partageantes etojent comvenues entre elfes.”. Mem, tom. i. p. 296.
1808. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 351
sary to remark, that we by no means intend to assert any thing further than the ee. a et a great. scale: at present, we onl to the effects of the = ing system in maintaining the independence of the weaker states. The case of Poland, as it appears to us, is one of the very few instances, which have ever occurred, of a nation being placed in such unnatural circumstances of embarrassment, turbulence, and degradation of every sort, that no change of affairs could ly render it worse, and scarce any revolution, by domestic or foreign invasion, could fail to alter it for the better. apart the high-sounding phrases of patriotism and national spirit, and the feelings of admiration which the very natural et of pity have taught us to couple with the name of Poiand, it is impessible for a sober-minded observer not to perceive, that ages of the most debasing servitude had utterly disqualified the Polish hoors for enjoying the privileges of free subjects ; that'a lifetime divided between unceasing tumult in public, and the revellings of a boisterous, barbarous hospitality, had utterly unfitted the rest of the State from co-operating in the formation of a constitution which should possess either energy or regularity ; and that the happiest event which has ever befallen the fine country of Poland, has been-a dismemberment, wept over and declaimed upon by those who had no-experiénce of its necessity, or need of its bene- fits. Those benefits have most undoubtedly been the pacification of that unhappy kingdom, by the only means which human fancy could have-devised for accomplishing this end, without endan- gering the security of the other powers, namely, a fair division of the country among the neighbouring and rival powers, and a con- sequent communication of the inestimable blessings which their ancient subjects enjoyed under a system of peaceful government and regular police. ‘Phe memorable events which took place at the ciose of the 18th century, it is almost needless to observe, were the immediate con- seq of an adherence to the principles of the modern system of international policy. ‘The internal state of France would never have alarmed the neighbouring nations in ancient times. Without anxiety, they would have seen the overthrow of all re- gular government, the progress of Jacobin contagion, and the development of those popular energies which armed a A devoted exclusively to war, with resistless power to ish. the grand objects of their demagogues, the overthrow of altars. and thrones, and the establishment of universal empire. Far from combining to resist the progress of the- new horde, they would have split into factions, and assisted its destructive course. No efforts to check it would have been thouglit of, until all're- sistance. was too late; nor would those modern Gauls havefound resistance effectual to oppose them from the Manlins of any capito!
4
352 Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan.
in ‘That this has net been the fate of every thing refin- pe and valuable in Europe, is owing to the degree in which the maxims of the balancing system began to their usual ef- Fae etic om ly ea took place in France. But that much injury has been done; that many inde- pendent states have been humbled; that some powers have been overwhelmed ; and that melancholy changes have beer effected in the distribution of dominion, has been owing to the unprinci- pied ambition of certain princes ; the taint of disaffection im the of some countries, which have, together, prevented the system of external policy from bemg followed out, and have given to the common enemy of national independence an advantage proportioned to the neglect of those sound and neces- sary principles.
Let us hear no more, then, of the last century, as affording arguments against the balance of power. ‘That eventful period in the history of mankind has been marked by the formation of vast schemes, which either by their success. may allure, or by their failure may warn, future statesmen to cling still closer by those maxims of conduct which are necessary to the preserva- tion of liberty and peace.
The remarks which have been frequently made on the know- ledge of the ancients, in this branch of policy, are for the most part just. Mr. Hume, so far as we know, is the first who stated this point, in an essay replete with accurate reference, and dis- tinguished acuteness of classical illustration, but mingled also
with some injurious perversions of facts in more recent history ; and with the misstatement, in one er two points of the great system itself, which he Fane to treat with disrespect.* The celebrated passage in Polybius, which has so often been quo~ ted,+ is indeed a distinct | statement of one general prineiple in that system; and the orations of Demosthenes contain some discussions of the most delicate parts of the theory—discussions which, from the events of his times, we may be assured were but imperfectly comprehended in those early ages.{ But the number of discoveries or inventions, which have been suddenly made in any branch of knowledge, is small indeed.. All the more important steps in the progress of the human mind. may rather be termed improvements than inventions: they are re- finements upon me formerly known—generalizations of ideas previously conceived. By how many small and slowly following steps was the true nature of the planetary motions brought to light! By how many insensible gradations did that
=
on the balance of Power. + Polyb. lib. i. eap.. 83. Particularly the famous speech for the Megalopolitans—passim.
————————— ee em”, mL CCl lt lCUh Term OD?
i903. Politique de tous tes Cabmets del’ Europe. 383
theory receive its explanation from the great law of gravita- tion, which, constantly and universally acting, keeps each body in its place, and preserves the arrangement of the whole system ? In like manner has thai theory of political expediency been gra- dually unfolded, and its parts refined, which regulates the mutual actions of the contiguous nations of Europe; subjects each to the influence of others, however remote; connects all together by a common principle; regulates the motions of the whole; and maintains the order of the geeat complicated system. As the newly discovered planets are found to obey the same law that keeps the rest in their orbits; so the powers, which frequently arise in the world, immediately fall into their places, and conform to the same principles that fix the positions, and direct the movements of the ancient states. And as, even in this enlightened age, we have not yet succeeded in discovering ithe whole extent of the planetary law, or in reducing certain ap- pavent irregularities of the system to the common principles ; so, in these days of political improvement, we have not attained the utmest refinements of international policy, and have still to la- ment the many irregularities which continue to disturb the ar- rangement of the European commonwealth.
It is not, then, in the mere plan of forming offensive or defen- sive alliances: or in the principle of attacking a neighbour, in order to weaken his power, before he has betrayed hostile views ; or im the policy of defending a rival, in order to stay, in proper time, the progress of a common enemy: it is not in these si maxims that the modern system consists. Those are, indeed, the elements, the great and leading parts of the theory; they are its most prominent features ; they are maxims dictated by the plai est and coarsest views of political expediency : But they do not form the whole system; nor does the knowledge of them (for it cannot be pretended that ancient states were in possession of any thing beyond the ulative knowledge of them) comprehend an acquaintance with the profounder and more subtile parts of modern policy. The grand and distinguishing feature of the balancing theory is the systematic form to which it reduces those plain and obvious principles of national conduet ; the attention to foreign affairs which it inculcates ; the constant watch- fulness over every motion in all parts of the system which it pre- scribes; the subjection in which it tends to place all national passions and antipathies to the views of remote expediency ; the unceasing care which it dictates of nations most remotely situated, and apparently unconnected with ourselves ; the general union, which it has affected, of all the European powers in one connected system—obeying certain laws, and actuated, in general, by a common principle; in fine, as a consequence of the whole, the
354 Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe.
right of mutual inspection, now eel recognised civilized states, in the rights of arn and residents. This is the balancing ; as much unknown to Athens and Rome, as the fplasientp he arr concealed from Plato and Cicero, who
of gravitation upon terrestrial bodies. It has arisen, in the pro- gress of science, out of the circumstances of modern
greater extent and nearer equality of the contiguous states—the more constant intercourse of the different nations with each other. We have been told by historians,* that the principle of the balance of power was adiscovery of the 15th century made by the Italian politicians, in consequence of the invasion of Charles VIII. Against such statements as this, it is perfectly fair te adduce the arguments of Mr. Hume and others, who have traced, in ancient times, ‘vastly more refined notions of , than any that dic- tated the Italian defensive league.
such si chete that the balancing system
or its refinement ; but to the pooprastl antag which placed the whole united states of Europe in the same relative situation in
which the States of Italy were at that period, and taught them not to wait for an actual invasion, but to see a Charles at all times in evéry prince or commonwealth that should manifest the least desire of change.
The circumstances of the European states, by ae Da- tional intercourse, have been singularly favourable to the dev ment of those principles of easy and constant union. . dated into one system of provincial government under the empire of Rome they were separated by the same causes, and nearly at the same time. Reduced by a people, whose character and man- ners were never effaced by the most rapid conquests, or most re- mote emigations, they were formed into divisions, under consti- tutions of the same nature iy marked the whole. The
scbeitnendbes ht Geetunniaeematne
mercial intercourse, which produces a
known in the ancient world, has coassnenaiehrer situation, and the resemblance of manners, to render Europe a united whole within itself, <aawtinpig Nandy seman world—a great federacy, acknowledging, indeed,
chief; but united by certain common principles ; and
one system of international law.
* Robertson’s Charles V. vol. i.
gseratbe ee oOo ese fo
1808. Politique de tous les Cabinets de P Europe. 355
It is from these natural sources, through this gradual progress, and not suddenly from any accidental occurrences, in the fifteenth century; or from the cabinets of statesmen, that we must deduce the refined system of interference, which has lated, for so long a time, the councils of in foreign af- fairs: ‘and we are to consider the union of the Italian states against the invasion of Charles, merely as a symptom of the same Ti ekdaarioae tara
of Europe. '
PaThe question, of the propriety of a nation interfering with those concerns of its neighbours, which have only a remote connection with its own interests, may be stated in two different forms ;— either as a general question applicable to any state, or in its
ticular reference to the situation of a nation placed iz certain cir- cumstances. Thus many politicians, who have no hesitation in re- commending the balancing system to such powers as Austria and Prussia, placed in the heart of Europe, cob vencsebla by many other states of various complexions and magnitudes, are yet of opinion, that the situation of Britain is very different ; that she is by nature, insulated from the rest of Europe; that she can defend herself against any invasion, by means of her natural barrier and internal resources ; and that she ought not tosacrifice the improve- ment of those resources, and the means of maintaining peace, to
the vain wish of holding the European balance, and embroiling herself in the stormy bem of foreign states. ‘To enter fully
into the discussion of great national question, would carry us much beyond our necessary limits : But we cannot avoidremark- ing, that so long as Great Britain is engaged in a commercial in- tercourse with other nations ; so long as her insular situation only ‘serves to promote and extend those commercial relations; so long as other states possess a large portion of ‘sea-coast, engage in a wide commercial circle, and are acquiring a navy of formi- dable power; so long as Britain interferes with them im other quarters of the globe, where her dominions are the most valuable and extensive,—it is an abuse of ‘language to talk of her being ted from the continent of Europe by the straits of Dover. The transport of an army by sea is often more easy than the march over a considerable tract mre bere of a naval ment is generally more quick, decisive, and dependent for- tune, than the siege of barrier towns, or the forcing of moun- tainous passes ; and the elements may, by zetaining the British fleets in Plymouth or Portsmouth, while they waft the enemy’s from Brest or the Texel, destroy ina moment that bulwark to which we vainly intrusted the national defence, and render utterly useless the whole natura/ force of the country, which, after the change of weather, may display, tri
Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan.
SO. Ro a A RRR Anat the plunder of the Bank, or burning all the dock- kingdom. ‘To say that England may trust to her is to recommend a full reliance upon the chance of
single battle, or the even t of a sea chace; to inculcate a silly in good fortune, and to advise that the fate of Great
i dhsidds bocummilted to the chanight-of the demunte; te
ing of a wind, or the settling of a fog. It is to her armies, that every nation, insular or continental, must look for her sure and natural defence. But although it would be absurd to recom- mend, that the internal resources of a country should be ne- glected, either in order to favour its naval force, or in order to pn nh gh ee are tern and the efforts of foreign y; yet he woul an equally dangerous counsel- nectobechechb Giriivuvts inghent hiteeeaiapedpebeaaing te, and of rendering it harmless when it does occur, which are only
to be found in a compliance with the principles of the balancing system.
When the different nations of Europe placed their whole glory in the splendour of their warlike renown, and attended only to the improvement of their military resources, every person of free rank was a soldier, and devoted his life to the profession of arms. But as soon as the arts of peace acquired an ascendency, and other fame besides that of martial deeds was sought after, war beeame an_object of dread, as deranging the main society, and exposing the national independence to ca- sualties and dangers. Instead of being followed for its own sake, it was now only resorted to as a necessary evil, to avoid a greater risk. The first great consequence of this change in the occupa- tions and character of men was the separation of the military from the civil ions ; the intrusting a small class in each community the defence of the rest; the adoption of stand- ing armies, by far the most important improvement in the art of government, with which history has made us acquainted. As this great change a its dangers, so another change, equally important, arisen out of it—ren-
, and confined their influence to a
in the centre of the continent. The powers
a species of general law, which in most instances, an appeal to the sword, by rendering such an appeal fatal to’ any power that may infringe upon the code : by uniting the forces of the rest inevitably against each delinquent ; by agree- ing, that any project of violating a neighbour’s integrity shall be prevented or avenged, not according to the resources of this , but according to the full resources of every other
member of the European community ; and by constantly seatehing
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‘,ioenn=ast ake ke a eae * = =
1908. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 357
over the state of public affairs, even in profound peace. Such, at least, would be the balancing system, carried to its full extent ; and such is the state of refinement towards which it is constantly tending. ‘The division of labour, too, and the separation of the military profession, has been carried, by some of the richer na- tions, to a still extent than the mere embodying of stand- ing armies. states, which are the most injured by the operations of war, are also the richest in superfluous stock. | have contrived a species of pecuniary commutation of war, sim- ilar to the commutation of military service, which paved the way for the introduction of standing armies: they have managed to turn off the battle from their gates, by paying iess wealthy allies for fighting in their cause at a safe distance. ‘The operations of war are in this manner rendered very harmless, and a foundation is laid for their gradual disuse. A few useless millions, and a few still more useless lives are sacrificed ; the arts of peace continue to flourish, sometimes with increased prosperity ; and the policy of preferring to defeat at a distance, rather than victc- ey at paying allies for being vanquished, rather than gain the most splendid triumphs on their own ground—has been . amply rewarded by the safety, increased resources, and real ad- dition of power, which results from an enjoyment of all the sub- stantial ings of peace, with the only real advantages of ne- ceasary warfare. Such are the general outlines of the modern system, founded upon the preservation of a balance of power. The science which to discuss the general principles of this system, and their particular application in detail to the actual situation of the powers, is, of consequence, next to jurisprudence and police, the most important that can occupy the attention of the statesman. It has, however, been alleged, that this is an inquiry reducible to no general or fixed principles ; that it does not de- serve the name of science ; that it depends on the caprices of a few individuals, and the variations in their views or measures, occasioned by accidental occurrences. Mr. Hume, in particu- lar, at the very time when he recommends the drawing of our conclusions on subjects of domestic policy as fine as it is possi- ble, adds, “that in these affairs, the inferences rest on the con- currence of a multitude of causes, not, as in foreign polities, upon accidents, and chances, and the caprices of a few persons.’* It may, however, be observed, that the very same general argu- ments, so irrisitibly stated by that acute and profound writer, to prove that politics may be reduced to a science,+ apply as well to the foreign as to the domestic polity of a state. A few more
* Political Essavs. + Essav TT
358 Politique de tous des Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan. rticular remarks on this poimt may serve to set it ima light suf-
\y striking.
1. Ali the governments of Europe have tended uniformly, and not Very slowly, towards greater freedom and mildness, since the rise of the commercial policy of modern times, and the diffusion of knowledge by the art of printing. Instead of a col- lection of despots, actuated, in all their plans of internal and ex- ternal arrangement, by caprice or accident, the system of Euro- pean princes is now an assemblage of deputies from the different nations, which have intrusted them with certain powers and cem- niissions, for the public good. In the execution of their trust, indeed, they are not directly accountable to any human author- ity ; but, even in the states where no constitutional control is appointed to the power of the crown, the indirect influence of a numerous and enlightened people is uniformly strong upon the councils of the monarch. It is always his interest to rule by gen- tle and agreeable means, and to further, by every.measure in his power, the prosperity of his state. ‘This interest, though for a while it may be concealed from his eyes, or over-ruled by oppo- site passions, can never be long hidden from him; but must al- ways, in the long-run, force itself upon his attention, and be, for the most part, the guide of his conduct. ‘The government of the most despotic princes offers constant examples of a submission to that opinion, which can scarcely there make itself heard; and not a few instances of obedience to the voice, which, from its re- sistless power over divans themselves, has been emphatically called:the voice of God. A check is thus provided for the vio- lence of royal passions, and a guide or regulator fer the move- ments of even a despot’s caprice. In the free governments of modern Europe, however, the influence of public opinion is di- rect ; the voice of the nation is acknowledged ; the will of the people is in general obeyed, the only doubt being as to the
icular line of conduct which that voice and will directs.
2. As almost all princes rule by the advices of ministers, and must execute their decrees by the assistance of a great number of deputies ; the connexion of those men with the people at large ; their responsibility to their country ; the odium and per- sonal danger which attaches to a failure of any plan usenitel iy their intervention, whether suggested by their councils or not, must quicken their perception of every national danger, and em- bolden them to withstand, in the cabinet, any pernicious measure dictated by the ignorance or caprice of their master. Where so many must ihus, in some degree, concur in every act of the sove- reign power, and so many are responsible, in the eyes of the country, for every abuse in the government, it is manifest that thechances of wilful misrule, through the unprincipled caprice,
Or er it cd of yy ' di tr al he me ti y le m ri P| si SC fe in Ww fi d d tl te al of ti g ly
a
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ig08. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 359
or rashness, or levity, or passions of a single monarch, are consid- erably diminished ; and that the true interests of the country, in its relations to foreign states, can only be lost sight of or thwarted during casual intervals, when the — rs are utterly careless of opinion, in of their master’s will, and the eel tacnckeripanh ands comeod np dinates situation, as to despise his best interests, and disregard his chief danger. The actual responsibility of every minister to the coun- try, even im governments the most unprincipled and despotic, and the submission of the sovereign to tothe will of the people, however debased, is proved by so many striking facts of commen notoriety, that it is scarcely necessary to state them in illusira- tion of the foregoing remarks. ‘The Soldan of Egypt’ (says Mr. Hume +) ‘ or the Emperor of Rome, might drive bis harm- less subjects,like brute beasts, against their sentiments and incli- nations ; but he must have at least led his Mamelukes or preeto- rian bands, like men, by their opinion.’ There is evidently somewhat of inconsistency between the two parts of this propo- sition. For, unless those Mamelukes and pretorian guards were so numerous as to command the whole state, and so separated from the rest of the commonwealth as to participate in no degree in their feelings, and to be altogether unconnected with their wrongs, it is clear that in the long-run they must have been in- fluenced by the national opinion. At any rate, although, in the domestic concerns of Egypt or Rome, the interest of the two or- ders might be frequently opposed to each other, and these of the people be neglected, there cam be no doubt that, in the ex- ternal relations of the state, the two classes formed but one body, and the best interests of the whole were the same. The
of the soldan, or emperor, then, could never, for any length of time, stifle or disobey the voice of those bands whom he had to guide by their good will, and rule by their opinion ; that is, part- ly by yielding to, and partly directing their wishes.
In the most despotic governments of the East, the fury of a mob frequently obtains a change of ministers, which is always a change of measures. The vizier who commands a v army, who advises an unprosperous war, or concludes a disad- vantageous peace, is generally bowstringed at the first murmurs of the mob, and his bedy thrown to appease them. ‘This is a sa- crifice made by the most absolute of monarchs to the will of the most enslaved people in the world. ‘The power of the Grand Signior, which lays every Mussuiman prostrate at his feet, does not extend to the enacting of any law which might add to the taxes of the empire. He may crush the proudest ef his bashaws, and squeeze from the richest of his officers every particle of
+ Essay IV, on the Principles of Government.
360 Politeque de tous les Cabinets de Europe. Jan,
their accumulated wealth. He may bowstring thousands, whom ancient opinion and religious prejudice has taught to believe that their lives were made for his sport. But he dares not issue any regular ordinance for a single general impost ; or the same peo- ple, who, in the strange contradictions of this unnatural state of society, had kissed the axe that was lifted against their lives, would now raise their united voice with a force powerful to shake the innermost recesses of the seraglio.
When Peter the Great of Russia wished to invert the order of succession to the = throne, from an unnatural antipathy to the Tzarowitch, whose rights had formerly been in some de- gree acknowledged, he did not think it sufficient to issue an ex- press edict, declaring the power of the emperer to fix upon any successor that he chose. He began, by accustoming the minds of men to such an unsettled and arbitrary mode of inheritance, in cases of private property. He published a previous ordinance, obliging each father to bequeath his whole real property to one of his children, leaving him the choice of his heir. This si lar barbarian, notwithstanding the many vices that stained hi character, and the constant cruelties in which his reign was spent, had the merit of beginning the civilization of his bound- jess empire. He wished to raise his savage and enslaved peo- ple to the rank of men; and the ordinance which we have mentioned, is an instance of submission to their will, from a real or supposed necessity, and from a wish to bring about a change in their opinions. ‘The succeeding Tzars have adopted a regular mode of receiving the opinions of the most respectable and enlightened part of their subjects, and of imposing a check on their own authority. Upon a new and general law being drawn up, the wkase containing it is transmitted to each of the governments, and the viceroys may assemble the different courts to consider it. If they unanimously disapprove, they may pre- sent a representation against it to the senate. The law is recon- sidered, and is not obligatory on the realm, until another ordi- nance has been issued confirming the former.* The silly passion for legislation which distinguished the Emperor Joseph If. pro- duced many laws disagreeable to the people : and although the whole tenor of that weak monarch’s reign demonstrates how little he was disposed to recognize the rights of his subjects, yet those obnoxious regulations were generally abrogated almost as soon as passed. While he was dragooning the provinces of the Neth- erlands into a surrender of their most sacred privileges, and
ly acting in direct opposition to the wishes of his con- stituents in the Imperial diet, he could not obtain the acquies-
* Tooke’s Russian Empire, vol. ii. p. 395.
i en Bon Wn a ee ne ae ee ee a a er a ae
1803. Politique de tous les Cabinets de P Europe. 361
cence of Austria (where his power is absolute by law) in a trifling and absurd eo tion prescribing the interment of dead bodies in lime-pits : and the discontent of that part of his empire obliged bes 05 Eecionthin idle eroenaie.® eC 3. Tt must be evident to every 6ne, that the only reason why the theory of international relations has been supposed incapable of being reduced to fixed principles, is, the apparently small number of men concerned in regulating the external policy of states. Where a great number of people are nearly interested, and take a part in each measure; where their consent, advice, or acquiescence, is necessary to the execution of every plan, it is clear that there is always a much smaller chance of capricious and irregular operations being carried through, than where one or two individuals only are concerned. It is a remark of Ma- chiavel, distinguished by his usual acuteness and profundity, that although in matters of general discussion, the people are often mistaken, yet in matters reduced to particulars they are most sensible and judicious ; that the prince is much more apt to be ungrateful, both through avarice and suspicion, than the peo- ; that the multitude is generally both wiser and more con- stant than the prince; and that those leagues or confederacies are more to be trusted which are made with free states, than those which are made with princes. For the demonstration of these important and curious propositions, both by reasoning and illus- tration, we refer our readers to the discourses of the Florentine Secretary,+ more particularly the fifty-ninth chapter of the first book, which is most in consonance with our present reasonings, and contains as strict a demoystration of the principle, as any that we meet with in geometry, making allowance for the differ- ent xaiure of the eviclencet. As we have shewn that in all states, whether free or enslaved, the regulation of public affairs is, in some degree, influenced by orice opinion, and that the most despotic princes are not free from its influence, either directly, or through their subordinate agents ; it may be inferred, that the principles of the Italian statesmen are applicable, in some mea- sure, to the movements of all independent communities ; and that the external as well as internal affairs of states are the more steady, the more reducible to certain laws, the greater the num- ber of men is, to whose management those affairs are entrusted,
* Mirabeau, Monarchie Prussienne, tom. iv. p. 472. 4to. edit.
+ Discorsi sopra la prima deco di T. Livio. Lib. i, cap. 29. 47. 58. and 59.
t Cap. lix. Di quali confederationi 0 lega a tri si prid pin fidare, 6 quella fatta con una Republica, 6 di quella fatta con un principe.
VOL, I. NO. 2. Aa
362 Politique de tous les Cabinets de’Europe, Jan,
and the more extensive the circle is, whose opinion or will affects that management.
4. The relative interests of different nations are affected by various circumstances, either unalterable, or only slowly alterable, io their relative situation and domestic state. The knowledge and comparison of those circumstances forms the foundation of the science, the principles of which we are now considering ; and it is very evident that this knowledge must be of as difficult ac- quisition as it is important and practically useful. For, in order to have a clear view of the foreign relations of any power, it is necessary to be acquainted with the circumstances, not only of that nation, but of all the rest which compose the European com- monwealth ; to learn accurately nyt rang state; to investi- gate their national characters and habits; to consult minutely their statistical situation :—so intimately is the federal power (the puissance federdtive of the foreign politicians) blended with the internal force, and the relative position with the insulated state of any country. ‘The temporary circumstances of the different powers deserve also to be considered in a practical point of view :—the court intrigues ; leading characters of the military or political departments ; and the distinguished men in the literary world. ‘These make up in the great book of politics, what may be called the chapter of accidents; and it is a chapter which perpetually sets all the inferences and calculations of the other parts at defiance. Except this last head, and it is obvious that every other branch of the subject is general and reducible to fixéd principles, the circumstances which we have enumerated are of a general and invariable nature, or they vary slowly and regular- ly, or according to certain laws, which it is the business of the political philosopher to ascertain. ‘The last kind of circumstances which we mentioned, are, indeed, more irregular, and their dis- turbing force is not denied. But, in considering the effects of the former, we must lay out of view those deranging causes, as we demonstrate (in Dynamics) the properties of the mechanical powers, without taking into view the effects of friction, or the re- sistence of the medium in which the powers operate. Ina prac- tical point of view, those disturbing causes must be carefully weighed; and to investigate them, is the business of the law- giver, the prince himself, his ministers of state, with his agents in diplomatic affairs: in a word, of the practical politician or statesmen; a character of distinguished rank in every country, filling at once the most dignified and difficult place which man can occupy, and very little deserving of those ill-tempered in- vectives which Dr. Smith has been pleased to heap upon it, in a fit of peevishness, not unnatural to one who had seen how very
1803. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 363
seldom this great and important character has been adequately su ed
t such disturbing causes do exist to affect the foreign rela- tions of every state, is no more an argument against the science of which we are treating, than the undoubted existence and ef- fects of causes exactly similar in the domestic policy of states is a reason for denying (what no one now thinks of doubting) that the principles of government are reducible to a general and cer- tain science. ‘The degree of vigour inherent in any form of go- vernment— ihe freedom enjoyed by the people—the influence of the privileged orders upon the great engine of the state—all these are liable to be affected every moment, and are actually af- fected by the characters of the leaders in the different depart- ments of the constitution. Yet no one, since the days of Aris- totle, has denied, that the doctrines of a monarchical, aristocrat- ical and democratical government are reducible to certain general principles ; and that the nature of government, in general, is a subject of scientific inquiry.
In fact, the foreign affairs of nations are much less apt to be influenced by accidental events, than is generally imagined. Thé death of a civil or military chief, who had supported the great- ness of a state by the vigour and wisdom of his councils, or the glory of his arms, is seldom, if ever, a cause of great change in the relative importance of that country. Great men rise in cer- tain circumstances; they are disciplined in particular schools ; they train up successors for themselves ; they are called forth by certain emergencies in public affairs. This is more particularly the case in great systems, either civil or military—in the exten- sive governments, or vast regular armies of modern times, all the operations of which are combined, and mutually ry Nea upon one another. As these can only be carried on by the united exertions of many persons of the same habits and cast of talents, their success must always depend on the union of men whose abi- lities and experience in their arts are extensive. If the general or the statesman fall, his place will be filled by some of those whose talents have assisted him in subordinate branches of em- ployment ; and the constant demand for merit in a certain depart~ ment wil! generally excite men to apply their attention to the ac- quisition of the excellence so much wanted, and so splendidly rewarded. Great occasions draw into public life such men as
* Osr readers will be amused with the little piece of ill-humour which this truly great man veats upon the statesman or politician, in the passage here alluded to. He calls hign ‘ aiff insidious and crafty animal ;’ forgetting, surely, that Caesar, Cato, Demosthenes, Riche- lieu, and many others, who have made the world tremble at their names, or revere their memory, must bé'¥anged in this very class.— Wealth of Nations, Beok iv. chap. 2.
Aa@
304 Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe, Jan.
have long been labouring to fit themselves for their station; and new talents, new powers, frequently spring up in a man’s mind, when he is placed in a situation of pre eminent difficulty and splendour sufficient’ to call them forth. The great object of every nation should be, to remove every impediment or check which may prevent such men from rising into the stations for which their natural or acquired faculties render them fit. Under a free government, the restrictions upon the rise of real merit are much fewer than under a despotism; and the chance of preferment is extended to a much wider circle. In those countries, then, much less consequence may be attached to the existence or to the loss of a particular man It is seldom that we meet with Fleurys, or Turgots, or Bernstorffs, or Hassans : but a Walpole, or a Pitt, is, happily for mankind, frequently reproduced in the course of an age. Thus the appearance of those illustrious characters, in whose hands the fates of nations are placed, is much less regula- ted by accident than is generally supposed, more especially in modern times and in free states It follows, that, even in that branch of foreign policy which we have denominated the chapter of accidents, some pees 2 may be traced; and less is to be imputed to blind hazard than most men are at first apt to imagine. May we be allowed to hope that the time is approaching (not ra- pidly, or by violent changes, but slowly and quietly, like all those arrangements of nature which tend to the substantial improve- ment of the species), when the establishment of equal rights, and rational systems of regular government over the whole of Europe, shall diminish yet farther the consequences attached to the ca- rices and accidental fates of individuals, and shall reduce to com- plete order all the circumstances that affect the intercourse of na- tions ; so as to subject their whole movements to certain general and invariable laws, to reduce every eccentricity of course, and to correct all accidental inequalities or alterations in the system.+ We have now finished the general observations which we pur- posed to premise upon the nature and first principles of the science, a practical treatise or application of which is now be- fore ust Before offering our particular remarks upon this work,
+ The foregoing general conclusions are sanctioned by the high authority of our countryman Professor Stewart. Had he added the demonstration of a proposition, simply enunciated in his celebrated work on the Philosophy of the human Mind (chap. iv, sect. 8.) the above inquiry would have been rendered unnecessary.
t The foregoing ak may appear to our readers unconnected with the particular works of Segur and Favier But we must observe, that the Notes of Segur (the only new part of the publication) are from beginning to end a statement of the principles above refuted, viz:
1803. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 365
we have yet to call our reader’s attention to some of the proposi- tions in which the doctrine of the balance of power is contained : we shall arrange them so as to exhibit a sketch of the nature of the work before us ; though in a more general way, and upon a more comprehensive plan, than can be found in that treatise it- self, which is principally deficient in fundamental principles and extensive views. We bave, in the foregoing statements, insisted the more at large on th< possibility of reducing the external poli
cy of nations to certain general Wintiples pe eny besides the direct negation of this proposition by Mr. Hume and others, it has been very much the custom of inferior politicians, and of the common run of mankind, more particularly in Great Britain, to decry such speculations as vain and illusive ; to hold them up a3 objects fit only for the pedantic statist of Germany and Holland ; and to describe them as points that should be settled by the fini- cal, and too often contemptible characters, who are generally the representatives of the greatest nations, and who have brought a sort of ridicule upon the very name of diplomacy. The gravest subject that can occupy the human mind (intimately connected indeed with our present inquiry, though not altogether of the same kind with it,) the /aw of natrons, has been exposed to a similar contempt. Montesquieu himself, lawyer and historian as he was, has, with his usual passion for an epigram, grossly mis- represented a subject as important and refined as any in his own department of municipal jurisprudence. He seriously explains ‘the foundation of international law,’ by telling us, ‘ that the whole system is a set of obvious corollaries to a maxim in ethics —That in war nations should do as little injury, and in peace as much good to each other, as is consistent with their in- dividual safety.’ Without asking whether it is possible that the author of this witticism should ever have heard of the insults of flags, the precedence of states, nay the whole admitted causes of justifiable war, and admitting that all the parts of the system may be strained, so as to come under the general proposition ; we may be allowed to remark with great deference to so high a name, that such observations are extremely useless and unsatis- factory, that we learn from this remark nothing which can
that in this braneh of politics, all must be ascribed to the particular characters and fortunes of individuals. In fully examining this, we have, therefore, completely examined the leading doctrines of this work. It may be proper to add, that the work, of which Segur’s edition is now before us, bas excited more attention on the Conti- nent than any political publication of the present day ; and that it is studied by all statesmen, as a manuel of one very important branch of their science. Aas
366 Politique de tous les Cabinets del Europe. Jan.
give the slightest hint of the nature of public law; that it is as instructive as if one ignorant of mathematics were to say, ‘ the whole of this troublesome science consists of obvious corollaries from a very easy axiom—whatever is, is.’ In this manner might all science be simpiified ; and learners who knew what * coroliary was, might be charmed to hear that they had but one proposition to learn and remember, and that all the rest was ‘ co- roliary from it.
We trust thai the remarks already stated will suffice to evince how mistaken are all such views of foreign policy or international law ; that those sciences will appear strictly reducible to certain general cage and leading to important applications ; that those subjects will be found highly refined and delicate, and as fully deserving of minute investigation as any within the range of the human intellect. As we proceed, farther illustrations of these remarks will occur to set their truth in a still stronger point of view.
1. Treaties or public pactions are the solemn and authentic ex- pressions of certain agreements, which the governments of friend- ly or neutral powers have entered into for their mutual advan- tage. In so far as refers to.our present subject, they are chiefly of three kinds, amicable, defensive, offensive and defensive. ‘The first are simple cessations of hostilities ; the next are agreements of mutual assistance in case of attack from a third power ; and the fast are more strict unions of interest, for the accomplishment of certain objects mutually beneficial. The second are seldom pure and unmingled. Many treaties bear the name of defensive, whi by secret articles or more commonly by mutual understanding, and not unfrequently by the express tenor of the stipulations, are strictly of the latter kind; and, in general, a paction bona fide defensive has a tendency to bring about one of the more intimate and effectual kind.
The monopolizing and jealous spirit of mercantile policy, in modern times, has added to the kinds of treaties just now men- tioned, a fourth, known by the name of commercial ; of which the object is, to settle a certain rate of trade between the high contracting parties ; or (what comes to the same thing) to grant each other certain privileges of buying and selling, refused to other states. These treaties are in every case absurd; they are meant to restrain that which ought in its nature to be free, and to be regulated only by the unrestricted operations of private traders : they relate to subjects in which no government ought ever to concern itself : they are only tolerable, when their object is the abolition of restrictions formerly imposed by fooliah. rulers, or gradually arising from the prejudices ef the people.
1808. Politique de tous les Cabinets de [ Europe. 367
Ail treaties have been exposed to the invectives and sarcasms of those who do not duly appreciate the nature of the instita- tion. ‘They are bits of parchment, and may be torn; they are made by men of peace in their closets, may be violated by soldiers in the field; they are deeds, by which states affect to bind themselves, while no court of public law exists, in which the party failing may be compelled to perform his part ; they are intended to check the ambition of princes or commonwealth, but they are to be observed by those who feel the checks, and may in a moment throw them off. ‘ Give me,’ said Prince Eugene, in the true spirit of these reasons—-‘ Give me,’ said the General, when he saw that his allies were slow to fulfil conventions made
their obvious interests, and refusing to gratify his ambi- tion, against their own safety and beyond their means—‘ Give ‘me a battalion of soldiers ; they will do more than a thousand ‘treaties.’ fall states were ruled by general officers, this senti- ment would indeed be accurately true. In that case, a corporal would be a much more important personage than a publicist or an ambassador ; but he would also be more interesting than a municipal judge or jurisconsult ; for all municipal law, as well as all public law, would yield to the truncheon and the bayonet.— The same sentiment would hold good, also, of all such treaties as those entered into about the time of Eugene, and those to which he evidently alludes—treaties evidently disadvantageous to one of the contracting parties, and wholly beneficial to the others. But it happens that in the present state of society, generals receive their commission to act, and their orders to desist, from men strongly interested in the preservation of pacific relations ; in the maintenance of the national faith ; in the existence of a public code, to which all parties may at all times appeal.
If, by such declamatory arguments, it is meant to demonstrate, that treaties will not of themselves be sufficient to maintain peace or alliances—to preserve the independence of states—to insure success in war—we must admit the position ; for we certainly never imagined that an ambassador's seal and subscription com- municated to the skin of a dead sheep the faculty of tranquilizing or rousing the public mind, levying armies, gaining battles, and taking towns. e would trust more to its powers in the hands of a drummer, than of a statesman, to produce those effects. But that such solemn conventions as lead to treaties, and such discussions as attend them in the nations contracting, such ratifi- cations as finish them, such ideas of pledge and form as they are uniformly supposed to convey—that all these circumstances have a most powerful influence, = cannot conceive questionable by
a 4
368 Politique de tous les Cabinets de? Europe. Jan.
any one acquainted with the history of man, or the nature of the human mind. Independent of the spirit, indeed, with which those conventions were wry the mere ion is but a bit of parchment. Independent of the spirit which extorted the Magna Charta and Soa Corpus, those records of the freedom and spirit of our ancestors, would be most unavailing to the liberties of the present generation. Both the one and the other are conven- tional signs—legal modes of expressing a bargain—certain solemn acts, the performance of which intimates to the. world that cer- tain intentions were perfected in the minds of the parties at the time—certain deeds, leaving a record which may refresh the memory of the parties, and to which the party fulfilling may appeal. Neither the treaties of Westphalia (now, unhappily, a matter of history,) nor the Magna Charta, can be enforced di- rectly by the mandate of any human Court, superior to both par- ties. If the circumstances which gave rise to them were mate- rially altered, they would both become obsolete ; as, indeed, the former has already become. While no material change takes place, they stand on record before the whole world, to animate the parties contracting—to check them in their conduct on their honour and good faith—to shew the surrounding nations what compacts have been made—and to hold up to execration those that break them.
The foundation of the stability of every treaty is the mutual advantage of the parties. It is a just remark of the Florentine Secretary, that even after the most unequal contest, no peace between nations can ever be solid, by which one nation gains much more than the other. If the one gains much real good, and the other only obtains safety from total ruin, the peace will be broken, either by the former, as soon as her power is recruit- ed enough to complete the work of conquest, or by the latter, as soon as she has breathed a little, and can hope to regain her lost greund. All such foolish treaties are rather conventions of truce than of peace. They were one great means of conquest used by the Romans : they are rendered less frequent in modern times, by the principles of the balancing system.
The observation of Machiavel may be extended to alliances in general between nations. ‘The leagues, particularly those of a nature both offensive and defensive, have generally owed their in- stability to a necessary disunion of parties, arising from each pos- sessing views radically incompatible with those of the others ; views, properly speaking, secondary to the main object of the convention, but more interesting and more binding to the indivi- dual party, than any views of the common cause.
a4 1808. Politique de tous les Cabinets de i’ Europe. 369
The remarks made above, apply to those subsidiary obligations entered into by nations not strictly concerned in the stipulations, in which the acceding powers guarantee the treaty, or bargain to support the party implementing against all infractions by the other. These are generally modified by the disposition of all parties at the time of the requisition to fulfil being made to the parties guarantees. They are the refinement of the modern sys- tem of interference.
2. The circumstances in the relative situation of the European powers—their proximity, their constant intercourse, theirrivalry, and the uniform desire that all princes have to extend their domi- nions, render it absolutely necessary that no one power should view with indifference the domestic affairs of the rest, more par- ticularly those affairs which have a reference to the increase or consolidation of national resources.
For the purpose of acquiring such information, the institution of ambassadors has been adopted, or of privileged spies, as they have been called by witty men, with much the same yen soy | of speech as would mark the personage who should be p to call Generals master-butchers, or Judges hangmen. From the institution of ambassadors, an essential and peculiar part of the modern system, have resulted the important consequences—a constant intercourse between the two governments ; frequent op- amet of detecting and preventing hostile measures or arti-
; and still more frequent occasions of avoiding ruptures, by timely complaint, and explanation or redress. ‘The natural effects of the system to which this matter has been reduced, are certainly the prevention of wars, and the systematizing of the grand art of pacification.
The relative influence of the national changes that happen in one part of Europe, upon the proceedings of the other parts, might be illustrated by a variety of facts from modern history. That influence seems to be founded on natural circumstances, and wholly independent of all theory or system. Thus, to take an obvious instance—As soon as the grand improvement of stand- ing armies had been introduced into Europe, it was extended in France, by the ambition of the King, to the keeping of large forces always in pay; and this example was followed by the neighbouring states, not as an useful invention of policy, of se- curmg the prince’s power, but as a measure necessary for the safety of nations exposed to the new power with which this change armed the French King. A circumstance not so obvious, in the history of the formation of most of the European states, presents an illustration, equally striking, of the principle which ~ we have stated. There can be no doubt, that the consolidation of
370 Politique de tous des Cabinets de ? Europe. Jain.
the smaller dynasties into which the different empires were once divided, took place, in all, about the same . The united empire of the Franks under Charlemagne was too formidable a neighbour to the heterogeneous masses of divided power which were then presented on all sides—by Britain, Italy, and the Northern Kingdoms. Accordingly, we find, that in the of little more than half a century, all the great unions took place, of which the present nations of Europe are composed. The em- pire of Charlemagne was completed at the end of the eighth cen- tury; the Saxon Heptarchy was united under Egbert, first King of England, in 827; the Picts and Scots, by Kenneth II. first King of Scotland, 838 ; the Norwegian petty lordships into one kingdom, by Harold Harfager, in 875 ; and the crowns of Cas- tile and Leon, mnder one King of Spain, nearly about the same period. The more contiguous of those states were consolidated at the very same time; the rest within a few years afterwards. The right of national interference (a late refinement of this right of proportional improvement) has, like all other valuable and sacred principles, been called in question. It has been denied, that the total overthrow of all regular government in the greatest nation of Europe ; the abolition of every salutary restraint upon the operations of the multitude ; the erection of a standard to which every thing rebellious and unprincipled might repair; the open avowal of anarchy, atheism, and oppression, as a public creed :— it has been denied, that the existence of this grand nuisance gave the vicinage (to use Mr. Burke’s apposite illustration) a right to interfere. Yet it is difficult to conceive what national changes, except the introduction of the pestilence, could givea better right to the neighbourhood to reject all intercourse with so infected a mass as France then was. And, if such defensive measures were absolutely necessary, it is evident, that the slightest aggression on the = of this neighbour justified that open war, which was so loudly prescribed by the slightest chance ofits leading to a restor- ation of order. The immense acquisition of power which the French government acquired by the revolution ; the general levy and arming that immediately took place—would have justified all neighbours in extending their resources the common prin- ciples of the modern system. Now, if this increase of French power had taken place on the Spanish, instead of the North side of the Pyrennees ; if it had been, not a sudden augmentation of internal resources, but an increase of territory and power by con- quest—no one doubts the propriety of an immediate interference; nay, if this increase had only been in contemplation, no one would hesitate to consider the formation of the plan as sufficieat cause for war :—So thought our forefathers at least, when they
1803. Politiquedetousies Cabinets de? Europe, 372
attacked Lewis XIV.a hundred years ago. But what difference po ay cos Gwyn whether such an ———- er takes at the expense of the ish, the seat the.cost of the other brench of thet ious house? whe- ther this sudden change in the aspect of one powerful rival neigh- bour is the consequence of her foreign conquests, or of her rapid internal changes ? whether the addition is drawn from the pillaged provinces of Spain, or the overthrow of all the peaceful institu- tions, and the plunder of all the wealthy orders at home? When such a sudden and prodigious increase of resources takes place in one country, as can only be matched by a similar revolution de- veloping equal powers in the neighbouring nations, those neigh- bours are exactly in this dilemma,— either they must wade through all manner of turbulence and danger, to the sudden possession of resources sufficient to balance this new power ; or they must sub- mit to this new power. One mode of escape only remains from alternatives equally cruel; they may unite against this common nuisance ; they may interfere, and abate it. if France had con- quered the kingdoms of Leon and Castile, who doubts that Bri- tain and Austria might have attacked her, though neither of them were friends of Spain? But this was not absolutely necessary ; for, first, they might nome preg saved themselves by defensive al- liance, and the improvement of their internal resources ; or, secondly, they might certainly have acquired in Holland, or Denmark, or Spain itself, anextent of territory equal to that gain- ed by France. But the former measure would have been dan- rous; the latter both dangerous and unjust In like manner, itain and Austria might haye met the crisis of their affairs, arising from the new and sudden acquisition of resources which France made at the revolution. First, they might have united defensively, as ancient allies, and worked all the while to im- prove their internal resources; or, secondly, they might have re- volutionized, and followed the French example. The first how- ever, of those s would have been dangerous ; the latter, both dangerous unprincipled. One alternative remained;—a union against the heard-of nuisance.
We hesitate not, then, to lay it down as a principle, applicable to-this extreme case, that, whenever a sudden great change takes place in the internal structure of a state, dangerous in a high degree to all neighbours, they have a right to attempt, by hostile interference, the restoration of an order of things, safe to them- selves; or, at least, to counterbalance, by active aggression, the new force suddenly acquired. Ifahighwaymenpulls out a pistol from his bosom, shall we wait till he loads and presents it, before we kill and disarm him? shall we not attack him with like
$72 Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan.
arms, if he displays such weapons, whether he takes them from his own stores, or seizes them from some: other “ween in our sight ?* We do not attack a ‘neighbouring nation for plundering or conquering a third power, because we wish to avenge or re- dress the injury, but because we shall be ourselves affected by its consequences. Shall we be less injured by the same consequences, because the dangerous power of doing us mischief is developed from its recesses within, and not forcibly snatched from without? . That such a principle as we have now been considering, is lia- ble to limitations, we do not deny : it is indeed only applicable to extreme cases. No one would think of asserting the right of. in- terference to be applicable in the case of gradual improvement, however great, in any nation; nor in the ¢ase of that more sud- den amelioration which national resources may receive from the operation of a salutary reform—or a useful law—or a beneficial change of rulers. We only think the right competent in cases of sudden and great aggrandizement, such as that of France in 1790; and then, we maintain, that, if it endangers the safety of the neighbouring powers, no manner of importance should be at- tached to the nature of those circumstances from whence the dan- ger has originated. Indeed we suspect that the essential, though not always avowed principles of modern policy, would bear us out in a wider interpretation ef the proposition. We conceive, that many of the alliances of states, formed with a view to check the growing power of a common rival, and always ending in of- fensive measures, have been formed without any pretext of vio- lence having actually been committed by the dreaded power, or being apprehended from that quarter ; and without any conside- ation whatever of the source from whence this dangerous strength has been derived, whether from external acquisitions (the most common case) or from thesudden development of internal re- sources, or from the gradual increase of national strength, while neighbourmg states were more slowly increasing orwere losing force. This increase it is—this comparative strength, which excites the salutary jealousy of modern councils towards neighbouring powers. The pretexts, indeed, for war have been various; but the cause of such wars has generally been the same: the pretext has been adopted in conformity to ancient usage or prejudices, or to hu- mour the feelings of the multitude, and cause them to take part, by working on their passions, much more powerfully than if the real cause were stated. The great maxim has generally been,
*- The doctrine of the balance of power as deduced by Vatell, from similar grounds. Vide Droit des Gens, Liv. iii. ch, 3, §. 44. et seq.
1808. Politique de tous les Cabinets de? Europe. 373
‘Obsta principits—* Veniente occurrite morbo.’ We recom- mend it as a general watchword to all nations placed in the Euro-
community—to those, more especially, who are neighbours of Prussia and France ; above all we recommend it to the greater powers of Europe, the natural guardians of the great common- wealth’; and io our country in particular, whose pre-eminent rank among them, gives her a title to interfere for others, as well as for her own immediate safety. ‘To her we would address a language not unknown to her children in former times—the lan- guage of the balancing system.
* Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento ; He tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem, Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.’ Virgil ZEn,
S$. It has been urged as a glaring inconsistency in a system which has for its professed object the preservation of peace, that, according to its principles and technical language, certain nations are denominated nutura/ enemies and others natural allies. A little attention to the meaning of this proposition, will at once de- monstrate the futility of the allegation, and lead us to one of the most general and fundamental doctrines of modern international policy. tis not meant by this phraseology to assert, that some nations ought always to view each other with suspicion and en- mity. ‘Lhe intention of such a form of expression is merely to state a very general, and, unfortunately, an unquestionable fact in the history of the human species—that nations placed in certain circumstances are uniformly found to entertain towards each other sentiments of rivalry and animosity. The balancing system prescribes the means of disarming this bad principle in our na- ture of its destructive tendency, by teaching us to consider other nations as our natural friends, and by making the members of each class unite, so as to act systematically, with a view to the preservation of national peace. A few obvious considerations will shew what those principles are, and will lead us, by an easy tran- sition, to the particular subject of the work now before us.
The circumstances which are uniformly found to constitute na- tural enmity between nations are threefold; proximity of situ- ation, similarity of pursuiis, and near equality of power. From the opposite causes arise the natural indifference or relative neu- trality of states ; a reasonable distance, diversity of objects, and considerable inequality of resources ; while natural alliance re- sults from the common enmity produced by a concurrence of the three causes first mentioned, in the relations of two or more powers towards the same third power.
874 Politique de tous les Cabinets de Europe. Jan,
But it may often ha that a state is involved in hostile re- lations with anotber of which it is not the natural enemy, either from being the accidental ally of a third power, primarily the enemy of this second » or from being natural ally to this third power, in consequence of their common relations of enmity to- wards some fourth or fifth power. Hence indeed arises the in- tricacy, if it has any, of the balancing system; and hence the multiplied relations of every one power with all the rest, so as to permit no one to remain for a moment an indifferent spec- tator of what is passing in the most remote parts of the Euro- pean commonwealth. A few examples will illustrate the fore- going proposition. These illustrations contain the theory of what is called in practice the European balance. ‘The work be- fore us consists, almost entirely, of a treatise drawn up by the Sieur Favier, a confidential servant of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. upon the actual relations of the different powers at the com- mencement of the last unfortunate reign. € principles upon which all such treatises proceed we purpose at present brief- ly to sketch. ‘The utility and application of such specelations may, like their object, be temporary and local; the princi- ples are of all times and places—they are regular, fixed, and general.
. In conformity to the proposition above enunciated, France is
said to be the natural enemy of Great Britain. These states, se- parated by a narrow channel, are of sufficient relative strength to be mutually formidable; the one, by the extent and com- pactness of her territory, and by her large and useful popula- tion; the other, by her immense wealth, the defence afforded by her insular situation, and the myriads of her fleets which cover the ocean. ‘They are both engaged in similar pursuits ; because the circumstances of their situation are similar. The island, how- ever is more adapted to commercial occupations, by the genius of her inhabitants, the nature of her produce, and the extent of her sea coast; from whence has resulted a habit of application to manufactures, navigation, and trade, and in consequence, superior skill in the arts, and greater extent of trading capital. The other country, eminent also in those points of view, is, however, so far inferior to the island, that her attention has for above a cen- tury, been constantly directed to emulate so valuable a superio- rity; while Britain finding herself deficient in direct power to sway the continental states of Europe, otherwise than by intrigue and gold, has returned France the compliment of attempting to beat, on her own clement, the natural mistress of the European continent. From this reciprocal inferiority and consequent emu- lation, has arisen that spirit of rivalry, which will, it is to be feared, permanently alienate from each other, the two nations
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most formed to love and esteem each other ; best adapted to en- tertain close and profitable relations of commerce ; and formed, by their union, to secure the lasting peace, and sway, uncontrolled, the sceptre of the civilized world. Unhappily the natural passions of the people, and the ambition of their rulers, have taught both to ‘bear no brother near the throne ;’ to suffer no equal in trade, in arts, or in learning; and to divide, by their irreconcilable en- mity, the other powers in the system, of which that enmity has become the corner stone.
Holland, from ans pranimny to Britain, her extensive com- merce, and her splendid resources of national wealth, would have been our natural enemy, had France been out of the question. But as Holland lay still nearer to that ambitious power, with whose pursuits she interfered at least as much, besides the jealousy of her democratic government and Calvinistic religion, it be- came her interest to league with the enemies of her formidable neighbour. Accordingly, in all the wars of the two last cen- turies, Holland has been found on the side of England, with only two exceptions :—the impolitic contest of Charles I. when he was in the pay of France, and the jealous enmity of Holland in the end of the American war, as anomalous in Dutch politics, as the war of Charles had been in the history of Great Britain. After the peace of 1782, the breach was kept open, chiefly by the successes of the Republican power, until the year 1787; when, by one of the most skilful and successful interferences in continental affairs, which the balancing system has ever accom- plished, the Stadtholder’s power was restored, French influence destroyed, and the Dutch restored to their natural alliance with
and. xs apne alliance of the French and Batavian Republics is y
obviously no anomalous case : it is in every respect a subjection retained, as it was made, by the force of arms, and the influence of factious intrigue. The day is perbepe not distant, when even the slight appearances of national independence will be thrown off, and the absorption of the United Provinces into the modern empire of the Franks, be (shall we say ?) the last great sacrifice to the sweeping principle of ‘ Arrondissement,’ one of the most signal inventions of the 18th century.
Next to France, the greatest power on the continent of Europe resides in the House of Austria, from the union of its heredi- tary dominions in Hungary, Bohemia, Austria, the frontier pro- vinces, and the late acquisitions in Poland and the Venetian ter- ritories, with the Imperial crown, which confers an authority chiefly of indirect influence, over the princes of the empire. The hereditary losses of this power in the late war, have, on ihe whole, been trifling ; but she has lost much in the power of swaying the
376 Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. Jan.
affairs of Italy, much of her influence in the Germanic affairs, and still more of relative force, by the astonishing increase of France, and the augmentation also of Prussia (her natural rival in Germany), to one or other of whom, or their dependents, have accrued all that Austria has lost. After all, the Austrian power is great and formidable. It would be the greatest and most for- midable in Europe, were its extensive territories somewhat more compact, so as to derive full advantage from their central posi- tion; were it to acquire a small addition of sea coast in the Ad- riatic, so a8 to have easier vent for its numerous and costly ducts in the foreign markets ; were its vast resources called rth and wielded by a better formed government, or a wiser race of statesmen, so as to take every advantage of the finest climates, richest mountains, most fertile valleys, and greatest variety of hardy subjects ; and, more especially, were its armies, the first in the world, organized upon a better plan, so as to place at their head younger leaders : Were these advantages (the most of which may be acquired) added to its immense natural resources, Aus- tria might be deemed the first power in Europe, and dreaded by all her neighbours as resistless in the scale.
The circumstance which render Austria the natural enemy and counterpoise of France, render her also the natural ally of Britain—the great continental support of British influence. In proportion to the enmity between those leading powers, this na- tural union between Britain and Austria has always been more or less close, since the separation of the Spanish from the Austrian branch of the house. It has experienced only one remarkable intermission, and that a slight one, during the peace-loving admi- nistrations of Fleari and Walpole. In the war which suéceeded the fall of Walpole’s ministry, France siding with the Bavarian Emperor, England naturally took the part of the Empress-Queen, at that time almost crushed by the union of her enemies. The singular alliance of '756, the chef-d'auvre of Kaunitz, and, ac- cording to the French politicians, the greatest error France ever committed, deranged, for a while, the natural relations of the continental powers. Britain was not thrown out of amity with Austria ; but Austria, ceasing to be the enemy of France, ceased also to be the ally of Britain. Yet still it is worthy of remark, that the assistance given by us to Prussia, during the seven years war, in consequence of France siding against Frederic L1.* was pointed, not against Austria or Russia, his two most formidable
* Vide Hist. de la Guerre de Sept-ans, vol. i. cap. 1. where that Priuce himself details the reasons that induced him to undertake the war. One was, the certainty of both Eagland and France not taking the same side; whence, he could count on the assistance of one of those powers.
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ehemies, by checking whom he could at once have saved him ; but against our. own natural enemy alone, to our desire of oppo- ae Prussia owed the aid she received from us. chief part of the ‘ Politique de tous /es Cabinets, is oc
pied with a treatise of the Sieur Favier on the Foreign Relations of France, evidently drawn up with a view to decry the policy of 1756, which dictated the Austrian alliance, and to shew. the necessity under which France laboured of increasing her military as well as federal power (sa puissance tant militaire que féedera- ‘ive ), in order to regain the rank of a primary power, said to have been lost through the consequences of the Austrian alliance, and the seven years war. ‘This treatise (with a few others, chiefly short excerpts from the memorials of Vergennes, Broglio, Tur- got, and other French ministers) was first published in 1793, by authority of the legislature ; and, afier attracting so great atten- tion over all Europe, as to be deemed the best popular manual of young diplomatists and politicians, it is now republished with a few additions, and with large notes, of considerable value, by the editor, M. Segur, formerly an eminent diplomatic character in the service of the French Court. The theory of M. Segur is precisely the reverse of Favier’s. He approves of the Austrian alliance, and condemns only the misconduct that marked the management of both the civil and military administration of France, after the treaty of Vienna had sealed and perfected the new federal system.
Favier, adopting the opinion since universally received, attri- butes to the treaty 1756,and the consequent military operations of France during the seven years war, not ouly the immediate loss of men and money at that crisis, all for the benefit of Aus- tria, without any good to the concerns of France, but also the subsequent aggrandizement of the Austrian House, already too powerful by the exhaustion of Prussia, and the valuable acqui- sition of Poland, the natural ally of France, and scene of French influence, whose destruction he hesitates not to impute to the Austrian system. Segur, on the other hand, without denying the losses experienced by Frauvce during the war, and the still greater evils arising to her from the Polish catastrophe, ascribes those consequences to the mal-administration of French affairs in the seven years war, and in the whole interval between the peace of Hubertsburg and the Revolution. He maintains, that the wisest policy which France could possibly have adopted, was, the se- curing of a long peace by an alliance with her natural enemy. He argues this point upon much the same grounds as those chosen by the defenders of Walpole and Fleuri; and he contends, that no danger whatever could have arisen to France from the alliance of 1756, if the administration of her domestic affaira had been as
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378 Politique de tousdes Cabinets de ? Kurope. Jan.
wise and energetic as the management of her foreign relations at that ara. As Favier perpetually recurs to the same text, endea- vouring, like all theorists, to reduce every thing under one head, and twisting all facts to humour his main position, so.the new editor follows him through his whole course, and, under the head of each power whose relations to France are diseussed by Favier in the text, we meet witha separate argument in Segur’s notes, tending either to modify or overthrow the favourite conclusions of the former politician. ‘
It appears to us(alt hough we cannot afford room for the discus- sion) that the doctrine of Favier, with a few limitations; is by far the soundest. All the benefits of repose would have been gained by France, although she had never entered into the defensive trea- ty of 1756, or the subsequent conventions of 175G/and 1757. The chance of France being attacked was chimerical. By whom, but Austria or England could she possibly be annoyed? If by the former, of course the defensive treaty was absurd; if by the lat- ter, clearly, Austria could never assist her ; since the British forces would only attack by sea, or by a littoral warfare, or in the American and East Indian colonies. But Austria was liable to attack from that power which had despoiled her of her finest pro- vinces a few years before. Besides, the object of ‘the treaty turned out to be (according to the remarks on conventions which we formerly made) not defensive, but offensive. France was, in fact, to assist Austria with 24,000 men to recover Silesia and humble the House of Brandenburg, or dismember its dominions. After the war broke out, the stipulation was forgotten ; that is, the terms were changed, as is very commonly the case ; and, in- stead of 24,0005 France sent 100,000 men, to be defeated by the British and Prussian armies. How could she possibly gain by such an objéct, though completely successful in attaining it ? She was fighting for Austria conquering for her profit, and, if defeat- ed, sharing her losses.. We object also to the general spirit of Se- gur’s reasonings. He always denies the possibility of drawing certain conclusions upon such matiers ; and, in the true spirit of an old diplomatist and courtier, he advises us to look: more to the peculiarities of human character, and personal or acci- dental considerations, than to the criferta more philosophically appealed to by Favier. We have formerly treated at large of this matter, and have endeavoured to refute doctrines proceeding from se partial and erroneous a view of the subject. We ought to remark, however, that Segur is by no means s0 ignorant of po- litical philosophy, as we might expect from this specimen, and from the nature of his former pursuits. We:find him decidedly Fejecting,as absurd, the narrow notions of mercantile policy, which dictate commercial treaties, although he was himself successful in the negociation of a very celebrated one, the foundation of his fame in the diplomatic world, We return to our general sketch.
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1808. § Politique de tous tes Cabinets de I Europe. 379
The vicinity of Spain to France, their distance from the rest of Europe, and the compactness of their territoriés, which renders them, as it were, parts of one great peninsula, might have render- ed them natural enemies, had not Holland and Britain been situ- ated in much the same predicament, with respect to France, on the north. Besides, the insulated position of Spain, joined to her great inferiority of strength, from political and moral causes, makes her naturally dependent on her powerful neighbour. But, above all, the separation of the Spanish from the Imperial crown and the Austrian dominions, and the consequent disputes between the Courts of Vientia and Madrid, about the dominion of Italy, have thrown Spain into the arms of the natural eneniy of the House of Austria. We do not enumerate, among these causes, the fam- ily Compact which so closely united the two ‘branches of the House of Bourbon, or the blood relationship which was the cause of that convention. ‘Chose circumstances may have drawn closer the natural ties of alliance between France and Spain ; but still they are to be viewed as accidental and subordinate. If it was the evident interest of Spain to depend on France, and of France to rile over Spain, the death or marriage of one of the reigning branches could never for a moment have prevented the union of the nations. The last will of Charles IL. indeed, set ‘all Europe in arms to fight down this formidable union. But does any one imagine, that had Alberoni succeeded in stealing this document, the other powers would have shut their eyes on the strides whieh Louis was making to obtain dominion over Europe, by playing off Spain against Austria? Or, had the combined enemies of that ambitious prince been prudent enough to accept of the terms extorted by his humiliation, and terminated the grand al- liance-war at Gertruydenberg, can any one suppose, that the union of the two natural allies, thus apparently broken (for Louis’s offers went to this length), would have subsisted Jess close and compact at the next crisis of European affairs ?
Tosuch as believe that all great events depend more on chance than principle, and despise all general reasonings on the train of human affairs, we would recommend two obvious considerations : Did the alliance of 1756 maintain indissoluble the unnatural union of the two powers? Or, has the dissolution, withevery cruel aggravation, of the marriage which had been ‘intended to cement that temporary alliance, prevented peace and seeming amity from subsisting between the murderers and the nearest blood relations of the ill-fated Antoinette? Has not one of the various means tried by Spain to regain that power over her feeble neigh- bour, which the eagincs revolution (1640) overthrew, consisted in always endeavouring to have a Spanish princess on the Por- tuguese throne ? And yet, ve that prevented her from seconding
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380 Poltitegue de tous les Cabinets de I’ Europe. Jan.
her policy by open force, and attacking the throne which she had immediately before filled with her royal offspring? Or, to come still nearer the present discussion, was not the family
c t dissolved in 1793, under circumstances of i insult and violence to every branch of the House of Bourbon, as well as of imminent danger to the most despotic and bigoted gov- ernment in the West of Europe? And have the ancient politics of the Spanish cabinet varied one jot, in consequence of all those personal considerations, and grand occurrences? No. After a few months of languid co-operation with the combined powers (from the expectation of crushing the infant Republic), as soon as Spain saw that the new State could stand alone against foreign attacks, and had some chance of surviving the revolutionary storms, she instantly returned to hey natural policy, and resumed her alliance with France ; that is to say, she resigned all her fam- ily regards, the consequences of which had once alarmed all Eu- rope? sacrificed much of her trade, exposed her sea-coast to the troops and fleets of England, risked and lost her fleets by fight- ing the battles of France, and put the very existence of ber weak- handed government to the severest trial, by a free intercourse with republicans and regicides—by acknowledging and receiving into her capital a Jacobin emissary with his crew. In a word, the Spanish branch ef the Bourbon line is as closely united, or rather as submissively dependent on the usurper of that throne, which the sister branch once filled, as ever it was during the roudest days of the French monarchy—during the reign of the oben, the Virtues, and the Elegant Arts. In return for his homage, the haughty sovereign of the two Indies is pleased to receive for his son, from the Corsican Adventurer, a crown tched up of the Italian spoils, taken from the natural enemy of in. the service performed, and the boon gramted, are equal-
ly illustrative of our general principles.
We might now proceed to trace the relations between Portugal and Britain on the one hand, or its connexion with France and Spain on the other ; between the Ltalian States and the ‘Trans- alpine Powers to the right and left of the Rhine ; between the Porte and Russia; or the Porte and Britain,or France ; the con- nexions between the three powers surrounding the ancient and dismembered kingdom of Poland ; the relations of the Northern Crowns ; the relations of the different powers possessed of colo- pies in the East or West Indies, both with the native states, and with each other, in consequence of their colonial possessions. All these juntos of states form separate assemblages of particular interests ; smaller systems, influenced internally by the same principles, and connected by the same law with the general mass of the European community. We have, however, said enovgh
1908. Politique de tous les Cabinets de ? Europe. 381
to shew, that, in practice, as well as from theoretical considera- tions, this important subject is ca of being reduced to systematic arrangement, and to fixed general principles. And we have only to conclude with repeating, in a form somewhat different, the proposition which at the outset we proposed to de- monstrate.
It oe: that by the modern system of foreign policy, the fate of nations has been rendered more certain; and the influ- ence of chance, of the fortune of war, of the caprices of indivi- duals upon the general affairs of men, has been infinitely dimi- nished. Nations are no longer of-transient or durable existence in to their internal resources, but in proportion to the which they occupy in a vast and regular system ; where the most powerful states are, for their own sakes, con- stantly. watching over the safety of the most insignificant. A flourishing commonwealth is not liable to lose its independence or its prosperity by the fate of one battle. Many battles must be lost; many changes must concur : the whole system must be de- ranged, before such a catastrophe can happen. The ap of an Epaminondas can no r raise a petty state to power and influence over its neighbour, suddenly to be lost, with the great man’s life, by some unforeseen victory at Leuctra. In the progress of freedom, knowledge, and national intercourse, ‘this great change has been happily effected by slow degrees; it is a change which immediately realizes the advantages that every for- prasthny, » has gained to mankind ; a step in his progress, which secures the advancement made during all bis previous career; and contributes, perhaps more than any other revolution that has happened since the invention of written language, to the improve- ment and magnificence of the species.
Let statesmen, then, reflect on these things ; and, in the pre- sent awful crisis of affairs, let them often ponder upon the prin- ciples which should direct their public conduct. Without t= ing the increase of their internal resources, by wise regulations, and gradual improvements of the civil and military constitution of the countries intrusted to their care, let them constantly look from home, and remeniber that each state forms a part of the general system, liable to be affected by every derangement which it may experience ; and, of necessity, obliged to trust for its safe- ty to a concurrence of other causes besides those which domes- tic policy can control. * Non arma neque thesauri regni prasi- dia sunt, Verum amici: quos neque arms cogere, neque auro pa- rare queas; officio et fide pariuntur’ Sal. Jugurth.
Bbs
38¢ Neckar’s ‘Last Views. Jan.
Art. X. Dernieres Vués de Politiques, ét de Finance. Par M. Neckar, An. 10. 1802.
FE power could be measured by territory, or counted by popu- lation, the inveteracy, and the disproportion which exists tween France and England, must occasion to every friendof the latter country, the most serious and well founded apprehensions. Fortunately however for us, the question of power is not only what is the amount of population? but, ‘how is that population governed? How far is a confidence in the stability of political institutions established by an experience of their wisdom ? Are the various interests of society adjusted and protected by asys- tem of laws thoroughly tried, gradually ameliorated, and purely administered? What is the degree of general prosperity evinced by that most perfect of all criteria, general credit 2 These are the considerations to which an enlightened politician, who speculates on the future destiny of nations, will direct his attention, more than to the august and imposing exterior of territorial dominion, or to those brilliant moments, when a nation under the influence of great passions, rises above its neighbours, and above itself, in
military renown.
If it be visionary to suppose the grandeur’ and safety of the two nations as compatible and coexistent, we have the important (though the cruel consolation) of reflecting, that the French have yet to put together the very elements of a civil and political con- stitution, that they have to experience all the danger and all the inconvenience which results from the rashness and the imperfect views of legislators, who have every thing to conjecture, and every thing to create ; that they must submit to the confusionof repeated change, or the greater evil of obstinate perseverance in error; that they must live for a century in that state, of perilous uncertainty in which every revolutionized nation, remains, before rational liberty becomes feeling and habit, as well as law, and is written in the hearts of men as plainly as in the letter of the statute ; and that the opportunity of beginning this immense edi- fice of human happiness, is so far from being presented to them at present, thatit is extremely problematical, whether or not they are to-be bandied from one vulgar usurper to another, and remain for a century subjugated to the rigour of a military government, at once the scorn and the scourge of Zuyope.
To the more pleasing suppositiony that the First Consul, will make use of his power to give his country a free constitution we areindebted for the work of M, Neckar. now before us; a work of which good temper is the characteristic excellence ; it every where preserves that cool impartiality which it is so difficult to
1903. Neckar’s Last Views. 383
retain in the discussion of subjects connected with recent and important events; modestly*p the results of reflection ; and, neither deceived nor rooted te tied theories, examines the best of all. that mankind have said or done for the attainment of rational liberty.
The principal object of M. Neckar’s book is to examine this question : ‘ An opportunity of election supposed, and her present circumstances considered—what is the best form of government which France is capable of receiving? and he answers his own query , by giving the preference to a Republic, One and indivisible,
The work is divided into four parts,
1. An cxamination of the present constitution of France.
2. On the best form of a Republic, One and Indivisible.
3. On the best form of a Monarchical Government.
4. Thoughts upon Finance.
From the misfortune which has hitherto attended all discus- sions 9 sepa constitutions in France, M. Neckar has not esca~- ped. subject has proved too rapid for the author ; and its
existence ceased, before its properties were examined. This part of the work, therefore, we shall entirely pass over : because, to discuss a mere name, is an idle waste of time; and no man pretends that the present constitution of France can, with pro- priety be considered as any thing more. We shal} proceed toa
description of that form of a republican government. which ap- pears te M. Neckar best calculated to promote the happiness of
that country. Every department is to be divided into five parts, each of which is to send one member. Upon the eve of an election, all rsons paying 200 livres of government taxes, in direct contri- ution, are to assemble together, and choose 100 members from their own number, who form what M. Necker calls a Chamber of Indication. This Chamber of Indication is to present five can- didates, of whom the people are-to elect one; and the right of voting in this latter election is given to every body engaged in a wholesale or retail business; to all superintendants of manufac- tures and trades ; to all commissioned and non-commissioned offi- cers and soldiers who have received their discharge ; and to all citizens paying, in direct contribution, to the amount of twelve livres. Votes are not to be given in one spot, but before the chief magistrate of each commune where the voter resides, and there inserted in registers : from a comparison of which, the successful candidate is to be determined. The municipal officers are to en- joy the right of recommending one of these candidates to the peo- ple, who are free to. adopt their recommendation; or not, as they may thiok proper. The < rs voting is confined to qualified
4
S84 Neckar’s Last Views. Jan.
single men at twenty-five years.of age : married men, of the same description, may vote at any age. .*
‘fo this plan of election, we cannot help thinking there are ma- ny great and insuperable objections. ‘The first and infallible con- sequence of it would be, a devolution of the whole elective fran- chise to the chamber of indication, and a complete exclusion of the people from any share in the privilege ; for the chamber bound to return five candidates, would take care to return four out of the five so thoroughly objectionable, that the would be compelled to choose the fifth. Sach has been the constant effect of all elections so constituted in Great Britain, where the power of conferring the office has always been found to be vested in those who named the candidates, not in those who selected an indivi- duai from the candidates so named.
But if such were not the consequences of a double election ; and if it were so well constituted, as to retain that character which. the Legislature meant to impress upon it, there areother reasons which would induce us to pronounce it a very pernicious insti- tution. The only foundation of political liberty is the spirit of the people ; and the Only eiccumstance which makes a lively im-
ression upon their sexes, and powerfully reminds them of their importance, their power, and their rights, is the periodical choice of their representatives. How easily that y omy may be totally extinguished, and of the degree of abject fear and slavery to which the human race may be reduced for ages, every man of re- flection is sufficiently aware ; and he knows that the preservation of that feeling is of all other objects of political science the most delicate, and the most difficult. It appears to us, that a people who did not choose their representatives, but only those who chose their representatives, would very soon become indifferent to their elections altogether. ‘To deprive them of their power of nomi- nating their own candidate, would be still worse. The of the people to vote, is kept alive by their occasional expulsion of a candidate who has rendered himself objectionable, or the adoption of one who knows how to render himself agreeable to them. They are proud of being solicited personally, by a man of family or wealth... Even the uproar, and the confusion and the clamour of a popular election in En have their use : they give a stamp tothe names, Liberty, Constitution, and Peo- ple, they infuse sentiments which nothing but violent passions, and gross objects of sense cou/d infuse ; and which would never exist, perhaps, if the sober constituents were to sneak, one by one, into a notary’s office to deliver their votes for a representative, or were to form the first link in that long chain of causes and ef- fects, which, in this compound kind of elections, ends with choose ing a member of Parliament.
1808. Neckar’s Last Views. 285
* Above all things(says M. Neckar), languor is the most deadly to a republican government ; for when such a political association isani- mated, neither by a kind of instinctive affection for its beauty, nor by the continual homage of reflection to the happy union of order and liberty, the public spirit is half lest, and with it the republic. The ra- pid brilliancy of despotism is preferred to a mere complicated ma- chine, from which every symptom of life and organization is fled.
Sickness, absence, and nonage, would (even under the i tion of universal suffrage) reduce the voters of any country to one fourth of its population, A qualification much lower than that of the py een of twelve livres in direct contribution, would re- duce that fourth one half, leave the number of voters in France three millions and a half, which divided by 600, gives be- tween fiveand six thousand constituents for each representative ; a number not amounting to a third part of the voters for many counties in England, and which certainly is not so unwieldy, as to make it necessary to have recourse to the complex mechanism of double elections. Besides, too, ifit could be believed, that the peril were considerable, of gathering men together in such masses, we have no hesitation in saying, that it would be infinitely pre- ferable to thin their numbers, by increasing the value of the qua- lification, than to obviate the apprehended bad effects, by com- plicating the system of election.
M. Neckar (much as he has seen and observed) is clearly de- ficient of that kind of experience which is gained by living under free i psi he mistakes the riots of a free, for the insur- rection of an inslaved le ; and to be impressed with the most tremendous ottons of an Poetish election, The dif- ference is, that the tranquillity of an arbitrary government is rare- ly disturbed, but from the most serious provocations, not to be expiated by an ordinary vengeance. The excesses of a free people are less important, because their resentments are less serious ; and they can commit a great deal par gat disorder, with very little ak mischief. An English » which, to a foreigner might, convey the belief of an imperiding massacre, is often contented by the demolition of a few windows,
The idea of diminishing the number of constituents, rather by extending the period of rionage to twenty-five years, than by in- creasing the value. of the epalcstine, logins to us to be new and ingenious. No person considers as so cones de- prived of a share in the government, who is to enjoy it when he becomes older, as he would do, were tat peivere deferred till he became richer :—time comes to all, wealth to few.
Thisassembly of representatives, as M. Neckar has constituted it, appears to us to be in extreme danger of turning out to be a mere collection ofcountry gentlemen. Every thing is determined
386 Neckar’s Last Views. Jan.
by territorial extent and population ; and as the voters in towns must, in any single division, be almostalways inferior to the coun- try voters, the candidates will be returned in virtue of large land- ed property ; and that infinite advantage which is derived to a popular assembly, from the variety of characters of which it is composed, be entirely Jost under'the system of M. Neckar. ‘The sea ports, the universities, the great commercial towns, should all have their separate organs in the parliament of a great country. There should be some means.of bringing in active, able, young men, who would submit to the labour of business, from the ‘sti- mulous of honour and wealth. Others should be there, expressly to speak the sentiments, and defend the interésts of the executive. Every popular assembly must be grossly. imperfect, that is not composed of such heterogeneous material§ as these. Our own Parliament may perhaps contain within: itself too many of that species of representatives, who could never have arrived at the dignity, under a pure and perfect system of election ; but, for all the practical purposes of government, amidst a great majority fairly elected by the people, we should always wish to see a cer- tain number of the legislative body representing interests very distinct from those of the people.
The legislative part of this constitution, M. Neckar manages in the following manner. There aré two touncils; the great and the litile. ‘The great council is composed of five members from each department, elected in the manner we have just de- scribed, and amounting to the number Of six hundred. ‘The as - sembly is re-elected every five years. No qualification of property is necessary to its members, who receive each a salary of 12,000 livres. No one is eligible to fhe assembly before the age of twenty- five years. The little national council consists of one hundred members, or from that number to one hundred and twenty ; one for each department. [tis re-elected every ten years; its mem- bers must be thirfy years of age; and they receive the same sala- ry as the members of the great council. For the election of the little council, each of the five members of indication,in every de- partment, gives in the name of one candidate , and, from the five so named, the same voters who choose the great council select one.
‘The municipal officets enjoy, in this election, the same right of recommending one of the candidates to the people ; a privilege which they would certainly exercise indirectly, without a law, wherever they could exercise it with any effect, and the influence of which, the sanction of the law would at all times rather dimi- nish, than increase. ;
The general national council commences all deliberations which concern public order, and the interest of the state, with the ex-
7803. Neckar’s Last Views. 387
ception, of those only, which belong to finance. Nevertheless, the executive and the little council have it‘in their power to propose any law for the consideration of the grand ‘council, When a law has passed the two councils, and received the sanction of thé exe- cutive senate, it beeomes binding upon the people. Ifthe execu- tive senate disapprove of'any law represented to them for their adoption, they are to send it back to the two councils for their reconsideration ; but if it passes these two bodies again, with the approbation of two-thirds ofthe members of each assembly, the executive has no longer the power of withholding its assent. All measures of finance are to initiate with government.
We believe M. Neckar to be right in his idea of not exacting any qualification of property in his-legislative assemblies. .When men _are left to choose their own governors, they are guided in their choice by some one of those motives which has always com- manded their homage and adniiration:—if they do mot choose wealth, they choose birth or talents, or military fame; and of all these species of pre-eminence, a large popular assembly should be constituted. In England, the laws, requiring that members of Parliament should be of certain property, are (except in the instance of members for counties) practically repealed.
in the salaries of the members of the two councils, with the exception of the expense, there is, perhaps, no great balance of good or harm. ‘To some men, it would be an inducement to be- conte senators; to others, induced by more honourable motives, it would afford the means of supporting that situation without disgrace. Twenty-five years of age is certainly too late a period for the members of the great council: Of what astonishing dis- plays of eloquence and talent should we have been deprived in this country, under the adoption of asimilar rule?
The institution of two assemblies constitutes a check upon the passion and precipitation by which the resolutions of any single popular assembly may occasionally be governed. The chances, that one. will.correct the ‘other, do not solely upon their dividuality, but upon the different! ingredients of which they are
d, and that difference of system and spirit, which resulis from a difference of conformation. — . Neckar has not sufficiently attended to thisconsideration. The difference between his two assemblies is not:very material; and the same popular fury which marked! the proceedings of one, would not be very sure of meeting with an adequate corrective in the dignified cool- ness and wholesoihe gravity of the other.
All power which is tacitly allowed to: devolve to the executive . part. of a government, from. the experience that is most conve- nieutly placed there, is both safer, and less likely to be complain- ed of, than that which is conferred upon it by law. If M.
388 Neckar’s Last Views. Jai.
Neckar had placed some agents of the executive in the great council, al! measures of finance would, in fact, have originated in them, without any exclusive right of such initiation; but the right of initiation, from M. Neckar’s contrivance, is likely to ex- cite that discontent in the people, which alone can render it dan- Peet eas wert di n thi of a republic, every thing seems to dej the puetty"ane the moderation of its governors. The eabcutive has no connection with the great council; the members of the great council have no motive of hope, or interest, to consult the wishes of the executive. The assembly which is to give example to the nation, and enjoy its confidence, is composed of six hun- dred men, whose passions have no other control, than that pure love ‘of the public, which it is hoped they may , and that cool investigation of interests, which it is hoped they may pee. Of the effects ofsuch a constitution, every thing must be con- jectured ; for experience enables us to make no assertion respect- ing it. There is only one government in the modern world, which, from the effects it has produced, and the time it has en- dured, can with justice be called good and free. Its constitution, in books, contains the description of a legislative assembly, simi- lar to that of M. Neckar’s. Happily, perhaps, for the e, the share they have really enjoyed in its election, is much ample than that allotted them in this republic of the cleset. How long a really popular assembly would tolerate any rival and co- existing power in the state—for what period the feeble executive and the untitled, unblazoned peers of a republic, could stand against it—whetherany institutions, compatible with the essence and meaning of a republic, could prevent it from absorbing all the dignity, the popularity, and the power of the state;—are ions that we leave for tlie resolution of wiser heads with sincerest joy, that we have only a theoretical interest in stat-
ing them. "The executive senate is to consist of seven; and the right of nting the candidates, and selecting from the candidates alter- nately from one assembly to the other, ?. e. ona vacancy, the great council present three candidates to the little council, who select one from that number ; and, on the next va , by the inver- sion of this process, the little counci! present, and the great coun- cil select, and ee The members of the executive must be thirty five years of age. Their measures are determined by a Seay. The ident, called the Consul, has a casting vote : his salary is fixed at 300,000 livres; that of all the other senators at 60,000 livres. The office of consul is amual. Every senator enjoys it in his turn. Every year one senator goes out, unless re-
1903. Neckar’s Last Views. 389
elected ; which he may be once, and even twice, if he unites three fourths of the votes of each council in his favour The executive shall name to all civil and military offices, except to those of mayors and municipalities. Political iations, and connexions with foreign countries, fall under the tion of the executive. Declarations of war and peace, when presented by the executive a ere ee ee ee ty of three fifths, the last b ak ay honours, and ceremonies of the executive, devolve upon the con- sul alone. The members of the senate, upon going out of office, become members of the little council, to the of seven. Upon the vacation of an eighth senator, the oldest ex-senator in the little council resigns his seat to make room for him. All re- ypc upon the consul alone, who has a right to stop eee a nae “ey gt tutional ; i majority persevere, in spite ame aap
in of, this declaration, the dispute is referred to and secret committee of the little council.
M. Neckar takes along with him the same mistake through the whole of his constitution, by conferring the choice of candidates on one body, and the election of the member on another : so that though the alternation would take place between the two councils, it would turn out to be in an order directly opposite to
that which was intended.
We perfectly acquiesce in the reasons M. Neckar has alleged for the preference given to an executive, constituted of many individuals, rather, than of one. The prize of supreme power is too tempting to admit of fair play in the game of ambition ; and it is wise to lessen its value by dividing it: at least, it is wise to do so under a form of government that cannot admit the better expedient of rendering the execuijive hereditary ; an ex- pedient (gross and absurd as it seems to be) the best calculated,
» to obviate the effects of ambition upon the stability of governments, by narrowing the field on which it acts, and the ject for which it contends. ‘The Americans have determined ot ise, and adopted an elective idency: But there are innumerable circumstances, as M. Neckar very justly observes, which render the example of America er to other governments. America is a federative republic, and the ex- tensive jurisdiction of ‘the individual States exonerates the pre- sident from so great a portion of the cares of domestic govern- ment, that he may almost be considered as a mere minister of foreign affairs. America presents such an immediate, and such a seducing species of provision to all its inhabitants, that it has no idle discontented populace ; its population amounts only to six millions, and it is not condensed in such masses ag the popu-~
390 Neckar’s Last Views. Jan.
pe ar After ail, aeltedeeie tan aioe never tobe cited in : nothing can a she might find that she had presented too fascinating and irresis- tible an object to human ambition : of course, that peril is increa- sed by every augmentation of a people, who are hastening on, with rapid and irresistible pace, to the highest eminencies of hu- man grandeur. Some contest for power there must be in every free”state : orate cae ne Se aa ames mee ge implies the presence of a moderator and a master, is more pru- dent than the struggle for that which is original and supreme.
The difficulty of reconciling the responsibility of the executive with its dignity, M. Neckar foresees ; and states, but does not
. An irresponsible executive, the jealousy of a republic
would never tolerate ; and its amenability to punishment by de- crading it in the eyes of the people, diminishes itt power.
Aji the leading features of civil Aberty are copied from the constitution of this country, with hardly any variation.
Having thus finished his project of a republic, M. Neckar the government of this country as the best model of a temperate and hereditary monarchy ; pointing out such altera- tions in it as the genius of the French people, the particular cir- cumstances in which they are placed, or the abuses which have crept into-our policy, may require. From one or the other of thesc motives he re-establishes the salique law ; forms his elections after the same manner as that previously described in his scheme of a re 3 and excludes the clergy from the House of Peers. ‘This latter assembly,M. Neckar composes of 250 hereditary peers chosen from the best families in France, and of 50 assistant peers enjoying that dignity fog life only, and nominated bythe Crown. The number of hereditary peers is limited as above, the peerage goes only in the male line, and upon each peer is perpetually en- tailed landed property to the amount of 30,000 livres. ‘This par- tial creation of for life only, a to remedy a very mia- terial defect in the English constitation. An hereditary legislative aristocracy not only adds to the dignity of the throne, and esta- blishes that gradation of ranks which is perhaps absolutely neces- sary to its security, but it transacts a considerable shareof the business of the nation, as well in the framing of laws ‘tis in the discharge of its juridical functions ; but men of tank and wealth, though they are interested by splerdid debate, will not submit to the drudgery of business, much less can they ‘be con- versaht in ail the ‘niceties of law questions. — It is ne- cessary to add to their number a certain portion of novi homines, men of established character for talents, and upon whom the
1908. Neckar’s Last Views, 391
previous tenor of their lives has necessarily mpresseii the habits of business. The evil of thimninsiing Gis tithe datacndnte thee
some danger of seeing a race of nobles wholiy dependent u the Crown for their support. and sacrificing kre dom to their necessities. These evils are effectually, as it should seem, obviated by the creation of a certain number of peers for life only ; and the increase of power which it seems to to the Crown, is very fairly coanteracted by the exelusion of the epis- copacy, and the limitation of the hereditary peerage. As the ir of business in the Upper House would principally devolve the created peers, and as:they would hardly arrive at that dignity without having previously acquired great civil or military reputation, the considetation they would enjey would be little in- Pages may rE ES NM ‘When the no- blesse of nature are fairly to esse created litical institutions, there thet io hile fone that the former should should suter by: the "i the clergy are suffered to sit in the Lower House, the ex- clusion of the episcopacy from the Upper House is of less i tance : bat, in some part of the legislative bodies, the interests of the church ought unquestionably to be represented. This con- sideration M. Neckar whelly passes over.
Though this gentleman considers an hereditary monarchy as preferable in the abstract, he deems it impossible that such a go- vernment could be established in France, under her present cir cumstances, from the pr ait of establishing with it an hereditary aristocracy ; because the property, and the force of
, which constituted their real power, is no mere, and can-~ not be restored. ‘Though we entirely agree with M. Neckar, that an hereditary aristocracy is a necessary part of monarchy ; and that the latter must exist upon the base of the former, or not at all—we are by no means converts to the very decided opinion he has expressed of the impossibility of restoring them both te France.
We are averees that M. Neckar should attempt to build any the durability of opinions in naticns that are about to 0 he or that have recenily undergone great po- litical changes. What opinion'was there in favour of a republic in 1780? or against it in 1794? or what opinions is there now in- favour of it in 1802? Is not the tide of opinions, at this: mos ment, in France, setting back with a strength equal to its flow? and is there not reason to presume, that for some time to come,
Neckar’s Last Views.
their ancient institutions may be adored with as much they were destroyed. If opinions can revive in favour (and M. Neckar allows it may,) why not in favour of nobles?
It is true their property is in the hands of other persons ; and the whole of that species of proprietors will exert themselves to
®
Jan. fury as of kings
dante penaieanlcncetaneteleetins unless, indeed, it be supposed that antiquity of possession diminishes the sense of right and the vigour of retention ; and that men will struggle harder to keep what they have acquired only yesterday, than
In France, the inferiority of the price of revolutionary lands, to others, is immense. Of the former species, church land is considerably dearer than the forfeited estates of e Whence the difference of price, but from the estimated differ- of pubic opiniza Can any fact Se eee
with regard to the probability of a future re- Saas these estates, either partial or total? and can any circumstance facilitate the execution of such a project, more than the general belief that it will be executed? M. Neckar allows that the impediments to the formation of a republic. are very se- rious ; but thinks they would all yield to the talents and activity of Bonaparte, if he were to dedicate himself to the superintend- ance of such a government during the pericd of its infancy : of course, therefore, he is to suppose the same power errors ts the formation of an hereditary monarchy ; or his 1 of diffi- culties is unjust, and his preference irrational. e could represent the person of a monarch, during his life, as well as he could represent the executive of a republic ; and if he could over- come the turbulence of electors, to whom freedom was new, he could appease the jealousy that his generals would entertain of the returning nobles. Indeed, without such powerful interven- tion, this latter objection does not appear to us to be by any means insuperable. If the history of our own restoration were to be acted over again in France, and royalty and aristocracy
t back by the military successor of e, it certain- ly could not be done without a very liberal distribution of favours among the great leaders of the army.
’ Jealousy of the executive is one feature of a republic, in con- sequence, that government is clogged with a multiplicity of safe- and restrictions, which render it unfit for investigating complicated details, and managing extensive relations with vi-
should be more willing to.obey ; therefore a republic is” a ee w rec Poo piace gat that the warmth of their inclination supplies, in some de- the defect of their institutions. Immediately, therefore, wp- to
ik
on the destruction of despotism, a republic ma a limited monarehy. r
it to the most numerous and the most profligate people in ec who are disgusted with the very name of liberty, from ag roa evils they oy enon, in pursuit of it, ! hateverbe thespecies government adopted by France, dilemma in which men living under bad governments are placed, is, that, without a radical revolution, they may never be able to gain liberty atall; and, with it, the attainment of liberty ap- pears to-be attended with almost i rable difficulties. To call upon a nation, on a sudden, totally itute of such knowledge and experience, to perform all the manifold functions of a free constitution, is to intrust valuable, delicate, and abstruse mecha- nism, to the rudest skill and the grossest ignorance. Public acts may confer liberty, but experience only can teach a people to use it; and, till they have gained that experience, they are liable to tumult, to jealousy, to collision of powers, and to every evil to which men are , who are desirous of ing a good, without Se a Bt to set about it. emptor pc blished system of liberty, like our own, the encroachments which one department of the state makes on any other, are slow, and intentional : the political feelings, and the constitutional knowledge, which every Englishman possesses, creates a public ict i jenni ann ine isenennliy er Amid crude sentiments and new-born precedents of sudden.liberty, the Crown might destroy the Commons, or the Commons the Crown, almost before the ey Gap any opinion of the nature of their contention. nation grown free in a single day is a child born with the limbs and the vigour of @ man, who
VOL, 1. NO. 2. Ce
retard, for a very long period, the practical enjoyment of in France, and present very serious obstacles to her pros- ity ; obstacles little dreamed of by men who seem to measure happiness and future grandeur of France, by degrees of longi- and latitude, and who believe she might acquire liberty ith as much facility as she could acquire Switzerland or
M. Neckar’s observations on the finances of France, on finance in general, are useful, entertaining, and not above the capacity of every reader. France, he says, at the beginning of 1781, had 438 millions of revenue ; and at present, 540 millions. The state paid, in 1731, about 215 millions in pensions, the in- terest of perpetual debts, and debis for life. It. pays,at present, 80 millions in interests and pensions, and owes 12 millions Sep saligndionn on the gublie anamone. A considerable share of
Te
tax. on salt. is, certainiy, is a magnificent pi of finance. The best informed people at Paris, who be very glad. to consider it as a copy from life, dare not contend that it isso, At least, we sincerely ask pardon of M. Neckar, if our informationas to this point be not correct: but we. believe he is. generally considered to have been misled by the public financial reports.
In addition to the obvious causes which keep the interest of money so high in France, M. Neckar states one, which we shall present to our readers—
“There is one nieans for the establishment of credit,’ he says, “equally important with the others which I have stated—a sentiment of respect for morals, sufficiently diffused to overawe the government, and intimidate it from treating with bad faith any solemn engage- ments contracted in the name of the state. Jt is thisrespect for morals which seems at present to have disappeared ; a respect which the Re- volution has destroyed, and which is unquestionably one of the tirm- est supports of national faith.
_ The terzorists.of this country aveiso extremely, alarmed at, the
a fh ee 2 Ch Se oe ee eo eee CellC
ao.
of Bonaparte, that they ascribe to him resources, which eckar very j
ae Aas observes Ft mtr credit. ' , ifhe pr Jar ‘iuftFrance, as he is represented to be, is an end of all credit ; for nobody
will trust’ dim whom can compel to pay; andif he esta~ blishes a credit, he loses all that tem vigour which is de- rived from a revolutionary go re. Bither the despotism or the credit of France directed against this country, would be highly formidable ; but, both together, can never be directed:at the same time.
In this part of his work, M. Neckar very justly points out one of the most capital defects of Mr. Pitt’s administration; who always supposed that the power of France wasto cease with her cred , and measured — of her existence by the deprecia- tion of her assignats. hereas, France was never more powers ful, than when she was totally unable to borrow a single shilling in the whole circumference of Europe, and when her assignats were not worth the paper on which the were stamped.
Such are the principal contents of M. Neckar’s very respect~ able work. Whether in the course of that work, his political notions appear to be derived from a successful study ofthe passions of mankind, and whether his plan for the establishment of a re- publican government, in France, for the ninth or tenth time, evinces a more sanguine, or amore sagacious mind, than the rest of the world, we would rather our readers should decide for themselves, than expose ourselves to any imputation of arrogance, by deciding for them. But, when we consider the pacific and impartial disposition which characterizes the Last Views on Poli» tics and Finance, the serene benevolence which it always displays, and the pure morals which it always inculcates, we cannot entertaining a high respect for its venerable author, and feeling a fervent wish, that the last views of every public man may pro- ceed from a heart as upright, and be directed to objects as good.
Arr. Xi. Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border: Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a few of modern date, founded
pon local tradition, 2 vol. 8vo. Kelso: Printed for T. Cad- da, jt. and W. Davies, London. 1802:
task which Mr. Scott has here undertaken, requires: no
common combiration of abilities. He before the
public in the distinct characters of author and editor, and unites,
in his own person, the a of antiquary,. critic, and poet, c@
306 Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border. Jem. Such a task is not light; its execution, therefore, is entitled to
in censure, and to liberality in praise. By the j&iblication of the Rediques of Ancient Pociry, Dr. Percy on literature an inestimable benefit. age is easily enamoured of its own productions, and of an-
tiquated merit. The reverend te’s labours corrected this er- ror. ie dug up many jewels among the ruins of time. He rescued from oblivion the scattered records of the taste and feel- ingof former days. He excited the interest of the poet and of the historian; and united in friendly league, criticism and antiquarian science. His work fortunately became popular ; and its popu- larity paved the way to similar collections, among which is to be reckoned the work before us.
The Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border contains poems of three different classes: ancient Aistortca/ ballads, ancient romantic bale lads, and modern.compositions, chiefly in imitation of the Jatter. Besides these, the Notes and Illustrations occupy much epace in the volumes, and form no inconsiderable portion of the editor’s merit.
The legitimate aim of history and of poetry is the same—to improve mankind, delectando, pariterque monendo : but the object issattained by different means. History follows human events through the course of time; poetry seizes their prominent’ fea- tures, their permanent principles ihe same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. History is a subject of profound philosophical investi- gation, but poetry, as Sir Philip Sidney observes, * is indeed the right popular philosophy.’ In a publication which endeavours to unite their separate advantages, something must be conceded on both sides. It is no objection to these volumes to say, that the poetry is sometimes trivial, any more than it would be to remark that the historical facts are not always correct.
The first merit of an editor, with respect to history, is his fidelity. ‘This merit, if we may judge from internal evidence, Mr. Scott possesses in an eminent degree. Very few indeed of the pretended restorers of literary history, especially among our own countrymen, stand blameless in this respect. The long disputed charges. against Macpherson, and the proved and ac- knowledged forgeries of Pinkerton, areinstances too well known toneed a comment. Occasional artifices may indeed be justified by the state of public taste. Perhaps, if Dr. Percy had not a little softened down the roughness of his valuable Rediques, he would have found neither readers nor followers. Bat the ne- cessity of deception no longer exists: and Mr, Scott has felt that he might confidently publish the rndest, of these ballads, in the very state in which they were heard by ourancestors, A few verbal corrections (which we shall presently shew to have
~, ae 2 BE Os... beet) 8O 6 eee oes 4 oe oe Oe Ow
oene@2@em fs =
3808S. Soott's Minstreisy of the Scotish Border. 307 been injudiciously made) beancely make an exception'to this re-
The activity and zeal of the collector fromthe number of fragments, and the variety of sources: which they were drawn. own regret, with him, that many compositions of
t and antiquity, formerly over'a wideextent of country, and sa mar i clemieanp poets and historians, should now be irrecoverably lost: But this consideration renders us the more sensible of his merit, in amas- sing the present ET and ged are said to be drawn; partly from
the recital of persons in the recesses of the Border aged Si panty eon wa 0 MSS. of different Border antiquaries. These authorities are certainly the best; and as
Mr. Scott informs us that he began to consult them inca Tont we may conclude that he has preserved many poems,.which would otherwise have become, by this time, irrecoverable,
Selection.from the mass so obtained was: his next duty; ends in this exercise of the judgment, it is scarcely possible to meet umi- versal. ion. What ove man would trivial, another will esti highly; what one would reject with scorn ano- ther treasures up with admiration. On the whole, it is better to run the hazard of being voluminous than fastidious; and so the editor seems'to have décided. Perhaps the omission of one or two trifling pieces (such as 4rmstrong’s wig fe , Vol. i. p. 183.) would hiave Veuileoda the work less If such pieces Had never been published before, they haw not claim a mission on the ground of poetical merit ; and, where they had been previously printed, the reasons for their rejection would be so much strength- ened, that they should only have been admitted for the sake of some very important illustration. The historical grownds of se- lection are either events or manners ; to both which these volumes apply.. The period of time which they include, ae fined to the 16th century; during whitch, the state of the Scotish. Border may easily be LeSeavad from the: of ie Outlaw, Murray, the Battle of Otterbourne, andthe of the Reidswire, which describe events of a public nature.
The state of morals, however, and the cendition of, private life, among the Borderers of those ages, are still more remark- able ; and, if this: collection had no other:merit tham that. of preserving the memorials of manvers. that can.never return, it would be entitled to considerable praise... Subsisting: by rapine, which, they, accounted lawfal and honourable, they blotted honesty out of the list.of their virtues, atthe same time that oe were trained, by their perilous expeditions, to a high degree
of enterprising courage, pantera and finesse. The insecurity of
CBs °s:
398 Seott’s Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border. ‘Jan.
their possessions made them free and hospitable in
ture; and the common danger bound the several clans t
by assurances of inviolable fidelity, and even softened their mu- tual hostility by the tacit introduction of certain laws-of honour and ef war. In these trails, we seem to-be reading the
tion of a Tartarian or Arabian tribe, and can scarcely ourselves that this country contained, within these two centuries, aaen ecqnetaiggelites Bedouin character. Camden has sketched it with considerable accuracy, in the following passage of his Britannia.
‘ What manner of cattle stealers they are, that inhabit these valleys, in the marches of both kingdoms, John Lesley, a Scotchman himself, and’ Bishop of Ross, will inform you. ‘They sally out of their own borders, in the night, in troops, through un bye-ways, and inary intricate windings.—Al! the day-time, they refresh themselves and their horses in lurking-holes they had pitehed upon before, till they arrive, in the dark, at those places they have adesign upon. As soon as they liave seized upon the booty, they, in like manner, return home in the night, through blind ways, and fetching many a compass. The more skilfulany captain is to pass through those wild: deserts, crooked turnings, and deep precipices, in the thickest mists. and dark- ness, his reputation is the greater, and he is looked upon as:a man of an excellent head, And they are so very cunning, that they seldom have their booty taken from ther, unless sometimes, when, by the
of blood-hounds following them exactly upon the traek, they may chance to fall into the hands of their adversaries. When bei taken, they have so much persuasive eloquence, and somany erm insinuating words at command, that if they do not move their j nay, and even their adversaries (notwithstanding the severity of natures), to have mp yet they incite them to admiration and ai
passion. Vol. i,’ p. lvi. Wii.
‘The publication now before us contains many curious and in- ee rs peculiar character. The laxity of Border morals, in respect to propert property, is seen im the very ani- mated: ballad of Jamie PTelfer of the Fair Dodhead, the Loch- maben Harper, Dick o' the Cow, &x. rome ee rage, fidelity, enterprise, are exemplified in illie, Sock o’ the Side, and Archie o’ Cafield. And, finally , the natural tendency of the human mind, in such a state of society, to stition and romantic wonder, appears from most of the poems in the seeond volume.
To illustrate these particulars, the editor has brought together much valuable matter in an introduction of 138 pages, and in risa) -dheamyttinous aiitayedirpetelrgupeae of the work. Among: these we notice, with tion, a discourse in the 2d volume (p. 167, &c.), on the
appiled to this eabject. e recommend this treatise, as by far the most learned, snes
and entertaining, that has yet been made the subjec of these superstitions. It is onthe pesaianr ot Wee cs ren ’ aes ther the manner of thesé abe extly to the
matter; yet we cannot but notice a false inert he taste, which — nore to the office of'acommentator. Instead of detail-
meeantdeia:* tau the sented miea = his work, he thus: ‘ From the remote period when the Roman Deity Terminus retired behind the romparts of
Severus, &c. It seems'te have been asimilar errorin taste which suggested the title of the book itself— Minstre/sy; a word not only poe ceromage rn Po Te Ym ot some measure tnd by the currency it‘has obtained attiong our modern sonetteers, or, as they style themselves, es oct Ss nglish idiom is not always preserved, es in-w origins Thus (in Introduct: p. iii.), « y were forkeited, "4: ¢: estates: So (in vol. iivp. 218°228), ‘ abstraction’ and “tly. stracted’ are used for st We come now to consider the poetical. merit, which, though not the only, must be the chief object of such a publication ; and which, we may add, is here attained in a very eminent degree. It is cpg nce he delineate feeling ; and where shall we look for fi and powerful, asin those early periods of civ: Ww, have already excited, men to the Pltivation of their in ;-but have not yet fettered them with that — ity of rules which forms them into the mere machines of polished society. ‘The minds of men in such a state are indeed less delicate, fed attfactive of general sympathy, than in succeeding periods ; but they are more poetic, more in- teresting in particular cont more distinctly marked and intelligible. We are not, then, to view ‘these poems as facta ad -polished, ‘and elaborate specimens of art; but as ibiting the true sparks and flashes of individual nature. Hence we shall find a savage wildness in the superstition of the Lyke-Wake Dirge, and in the tamultuous rage of the Fray of Suport; but we. he Fragmenta: Voll 13%, exque site tenderness of the Vol. ii. p. 157,
‘T’ve lieard them “at-the ewe. milking, &e.’ Oh whigh Hit btle WtM Saath pone dove rsa tlt we
deems ancient, and to us ‘the positive evi- pee that convinced him the whole ee not so.
Cc4
400 Seott’s Manstrelsy.of the Scotesh Border. Jan.
The Lament of the Queen’s: Marie (vol. ii. p..154:) connected with its tale*, bears so strong a stamp of nature, that we cannot resist quoting it; hoping, at the same time, that-Mr. Scott will spare no pains to recover the remainder, if there be any-
‘ —“ Q ye mariners, mariners, mariners, . That sail upon the seay...,. . Let not my father nor wit,,
The death that 1 maun.die!”—
* When she vam to the Netherliow port, She laughed. loud laughters three ; j But when she cam to the gallows’ foot, The tear blinded her e’e.
« — Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, | The night she'll ha’e but three; There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beatoun, And Marie Carmichael, and me.”—’
mw
The ballad of Fair [Helen of Kirconnedl (vol. \..p: 72), found> ed on a well-known and affecting incident, has been often gi to the public; but never so perfect as inits present shape: ‘The following stanzas are of exquisite merit :
* I wish I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries, ae? O that I were where Helen lies, & Ye On fair Kirconnell lee!
* Curst be the heart that thought the thought, And curst the hand that fir'd the shot, , When in my arms+ bard Helen dropt,
And died to succour me:
‘ O think na ye my heart was sair, When my love dropt down, and spak nae mair, There did she swoon wi’ meikle care,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.
‘ As I went down the water side, None but my foe to be my gnide, None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell Lee;
* The Queen’s Marie was a Frenchwoman, who was executed, with her lover, for the murder of an illegitimate child,
+ We read bird, as forming a simple and’ natural metaphor : its force is destroyed, by making it synonymous with maid.
1908. Scott's Minstreisyrof the Scotish Border. 401
‘TL lighted sword:did draw, For her sake for me.
‘O Helen fair, beyond compare,
«O Helen fair! O:Helen chaste ! ' Hf. L were with thee, L-were blest, Where thou lies tow, and takes thy reat; On fair Kirconell Lee.”
The rea ¢ verses, niet very oer setiagacter, al- ford perhaps a fairer s the’ pathos and sim city that belong to the: old romantic’ ballad: ’ King ‘Honor been murdered by a traitor, and. hig Queens who was left in a state of pregnancy, was.closely | guarded; till.it should appear whether she was to produce: a-boy,.or a girl. » Tlie latter was to be spared, but a boy wasto-be‘immediately killed. The Queen makes her guards drunk, and says—(Vol. ii. p..77~79.)
— O narrow, natrow;'is this window, And big, big, am.I grown !”— Yet, threugh the might of Our Ladye, Out at.it she is gone, it ‘She wander'd up, she: wander’d down, i be wander'd (a aed H And at last, into t swine’s ‘stythe; ¢ The Queen brought forth ason.... Then t eons hevileitiiens iatngl _Mhich sald ewe We * the kevi j And he sent. hia wre oe him, ‘ O when she saw: Wise. illinan's, wife, A» The Queen fell o : —* Win up, wi Madame she aad ined
* What needs
—* O outo i ‘0 gabe tind x
To change your lass play "thie led bairn, King Honor left me. wi’. - ‘ “ And ye-maun learn my conn weel to breasta Asi seikdihen your turtle-dea®? As weel to write and read.
* Dow—Dove.
91. TH
« « At kirk and market whem we meet,
We'll dare make nae avowe, . nit Bat “Dame, how does my gay goss hawk ?” — «“ Madame, how does my dow 7” —’ Among the many ins een ‘there is none more striking than the of Harden in the fight for Jamie’ eattle + (Vol. ® p: 87-)
« But Willie was stricken ower the head, And through the knapscap+ the sword has gane. And Harden grat for very rage, Whew Willie om the grund lay slane. « But he’s ta’en aff his gude steel cap, Aad thrice he’s wav'd it in the air~ The Dinlay} smaw was ne‘er mair white Nor the lyart hocks of Harden's hair. * “Revenge! Revenge!” auld Wat can cry, “ Fye, lads, lay, en;them.cruellie !” dc. The rage of The bauld perp when’ he is informed that the English warden, Lord Screop, had # ‘Scotchman in time of truce, is also deserving of aif extract : (Voli. p. 128-9.)
‘ He has ta’en the table wi” his band,
He garr'd the red wine spritig on hie— “ Now Chiist’s curse’on miy fiead,” he said, « But avenged of Lord Seedop T'll'be ?
* “O is my bashetg a Widow's curch 1 oon eae
Or my arma ladye’s Logs fee 7, NO
* « And have = ag Pew ome
And forgotten that the bald Is Keeper here oir the Scotish
« « And have they’’ed'ti’én iti inna Willie, Withoeuten either dread or fear?
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleugh Can back a steed or sliakié a spear
Ane’
* Lay gowd—To embroider in golds «+ Head+picce. t A mountain in Liddesdale. : Basnet —Helmet. " Curch—Coif. ‘ q Lightly—Set light by.
by Of this the ballad of t Willie affords many espe- cial saugiuesseuieseen @2 in irons on the of Red Rowan, the starkest man in Tiviotdale. Vol. isp: 134. * “Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him down the ladder lang ; At every stride Red Rowan made, I wot the I ih lg * “QO mony a time, en aden ail vid and Reta teagiontene indies Renee) c= I ween my legs hae ne'er hestrode. ‘ <p amet af “I’ve prick'd a horse,out oure rs, But since the day f backit a steed, ee
Thinking, as we de, real standerd to which the merit of these poems's to we cannot agree with the editor in the opinion which ‘he’ has of that class of tragic ballads to which the Bonny senate tes
is not so as to y cussion “hvon tod ndeotboniele Hees wt peep con with eat a muse ; iene te ian = those ‘ lof. grave trage who, in opinion of no were ‘ be best erp your Ttis rg tig? ga that enormities exist, but t ncgalment, or the or tive statement of what s their crimi that vitiates,
while it weakens moral nt hea teen le. The ae ister, or the may have
‘Opera, , by ince of their ; but who was ever corrupted ited by Othello? The ballads ‘cae mentioned have such poetic te ae more than a suffici-
ae a
© Tis Plinhe.
404 Seott’s' Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border. Sth.
prtrymemaatinieesthe m5 yy vvam en Scott possesses others of equal b , we trust he will not deterred, by conscientious scruples; from giving them to the public. ‘4
If we were disposed to be very apprehensive, indeed, as to the effect of any ancient ballads upon our national morality, we might very well take exception at the greatér*part of this collection. The glory of outlaws, afd the renowir of cattle stealers, is com- memorated in almost.every one of the historical poems ;, and the heroines of all ithe romantic ballads, we; believe, without, one ex- ception, have the misfortune tobe mothers before marriage. It is amazing, indeed, to observe with what invariable uniformity the circumstances of pregnancy and parturition are brought. for- ward to heighten the interest of every love-story. When Lillie Flower, for instance, is to be murdered by the ah. Jellon Grame, she says,
“ Your bairn, that stirs/between my sides, Maun shortly see the light ;
But tosee it weltering in my blood, Would be a piteous sight. ~
‘The Lass of Lochroyan’ inlike manner,. exclaims; « And wha will father my young son, Till Lord Gregory comes bame?” ‘The fate of the romantic ‘ White Lilly; is thus simply de- scribed : ‘ About the dead hour o’ the night, The ladye’s bower was broken ; And, about the first bour o’ the day,. ; The fair knave bairg was gotten.” Vol. ii. p. 65. The whole story of ‘ Willie’s Ladye,’ turas on a difficult de- livery. ‘The fair “ Lady Janet’-commits a faux-pas of the same kind ; and so common does the indiscretion appear to have been, that the bold baron, her father, is made to enquire after it in this easy manner : : rn then Qype her father, dear,
meek and mild ; ndaldest She tn sweet Janet, “ | fear ye gae with child.” ‘ Fair Annie’s case, however, is, the most aggravated. She makes the following very pertinent interrogatory ; * But how can I gang maiden like, When maiden I am nane ; Have I not born SEVEN sons to thee, Aad am with child again 7”
3903. Scott's Minstrelsy: of the Scotish: Border. 405
After all this, we are not surprised. that © trick? wedded eight wives successively, without finding one among them ; though we think his lamentation; on the failure’of the-last expe- riment rather too Violent for'the eccasion. «>» ~'
“Tam the most unhappy man; That ever was in land: I courted a maiden meik and mild, And I hae gotten nothing but a woman with child.’
In the wording of these poems, no precise rule seems to have been followed; and hence, some por ha have pie My which a more attentive collation of MSS..or oral traditions, together with a due regard to the probable date of the composition, would, perhaps have excluded. Some expressions very much resemble the style of our modern’ poetasters ; as, ‘wave danger back on thee,’ vol. ii. p. 65;—“whose notes made sad the listen- ing ear,’ vol. ii. p. 149. Some words seem substituted for more ap- propriate provincial terms ; as, “braided her yellow hair,’ vol. ii. p- 229. which is in some copies ‘ shed, a locally descriptive word. So, ‘a red-hot gad of tron,’ vol. ii. p.240. should’ be ‘ aarn,’ more suitable to the rhyme.
Having reviewed the remains of antiquity, which constitute the chief value of this work, it remains to. say something of the productions avowedly modern.
They have all considerable merit, and often touch upon true feeling ; a8 in Mrs. Cockburn’s Flowers of the Forest (vol,.ii. p. 163.), of which Burns himself has noticed the pathetic exclama- tion :
‘O fickle fortune! why this cruel sporting ? Why thus perplex us, poor sons of a day?
But we may in general observe, that they breathe not enough the rude energy of the Scotish ballad: they have too little sim- plicity to suit the rest of the collection. We can scarcely con- ceive that an unaffected lover of Scotish music would express its effect, as Mr. Leyden has done (vol. ii. p. 2-), by references to Asiatic literature, and in all the luxuriancy of Asiatic diction.
This discordance becomes still more striking, when the com- positions are announced as imitations of the ancient style. Their professed aim is ‘to unite the vigorous numbers and wild fiction of the ancient ballad, with greater equality of yersification and elegance of sentiment.’ We do not disapprove this attempt. Let the modern poet, imitate, if he can, the excellencies and avoid the defects of the old ballad writers ; but let him begin by adopting their strength of sentiment, and energy of expression ; and let him take especial care to draw his ornamental additions from
406 —_Seott’s\Minstrelsy of the Scotish Border. Jany
purer sources than the bonny Jeans, the Alonzos, and [ of the day. ‘cditomed tasiey-whieh (pecbabty way 2 of composition ; a taste, ‘not suit ee eed te eed ie Lee ce es Undoubtedly, Mr. and his friend Mr Lepien, dere Seploneh.qent Pe powers of imagination, and harmony of numbers. Bee of St. John, Clenpinias, ‘VThomas the Rhymer, Lord Soulis, and Cout of Keeldar, are all (but the two first) much superior to the numerous tales of wonder with which our patience has of late been so bets taxed. rel py 4 the ox See » general of antiquity ave they even any one ballad in this collection? Where, for instance, shall we find an ancient stanza like the following (vol. ii. p. 288,)? ‘ Yet fragments of the lefty strain Float down the tide of years; As buoyant on the stormy main, epledoaek capaen”
It is our opinion, therefore, that the modern of this work will obtain. (and, with certain deductions, will e) the ap-
ause of a numerous class of readers. But that class is different
the one which will ee Se | apeedi pa , together pawesent
he will s ly give to with a ction ofthe resent wor: as publication will afford him an opportunity of modelling the whole anew, we take the liberty of that the whole of the modern part may be canve- niently thrown into one volume, which will lose nothing of its intrinsic value by bei from the rest.
Although we have y censured the defects of this collec- tion, we wish it te be understood that we consider them as puichro in corpore n@vos, as those eommon literary i ep gale aya Pheng: (Tragernlertnge lame
wor n w 8 interesting. ta ecee ad the the manner in w. Syoyape swe far ara small degree of credit on the editor.
with plcsnare tar eingab besaty ef thetype Wilk eppropriate
pleasure the si beaaty of the type. With appropriate
ares Wak Chica wh the Mende, wal canentvalee acqeuenain Ballantyne of Kelso.
an one Goes itt oe 28 COs oe Ue 6S Cee ss
a hme ok Oe eee 1 ee eee coe oe Oe eee 6S Oe Ue Ae ee OZ
1903. Weodhouse on Imaginary Quantities. 407 tained by Means of Imaginary & : By Robert Woodhouse, A. M.. Fellow of Caius: Cambridge. (In the Transactions of the Royal Society of ~ 1802.)
wre of modern mathematics depends on the dec- trine of i or impossible quantities. It is natural to expect that the grounds of a doctrine, on ae wie A a pertion of the analytical edifice, have been fully 3 that all objections have been successively answered ; and that no room is left for deubt or cavil. The , however, will, in reality be found to be the case. Mathematicians have been more attentive toi e and extend their methods than soli- citous to examine principles on which they are founded. Men of a scientific turn, who wish to reason as well as to.com- pute, and who will not assent to the truth of the conclusion, with- out fully comprehending every step in the reasoning that leads to it, have justly to complain of the mystery and paradox attending the use of impossible quantities.
Mem ge og a a mathematical investigations in two ways, which it is to distinguish. Sometimes they
merely mark an that cannot be performed, or an ab- surd conclusion : and this always when a contradiction takes place infhe conditions to be This office of ima-
expressions is attended with no difficulty ; it is allowed to be legitimate, andiite useis to point out the limitation of pro- blems. In other cases, imaginary expressions are introduced into mathematical investigations (and sometimes they occur very un- expectedly*) when no ix.,onsistency really takes place in the re- lations of the magnitudes concerned, and when we are certain that the quantities signified are possible and real. When this ha
ou examining the reasoning ed, it will be found that some contradiction is impli erty ritalin woe i is unwarily admi The fault here is in the reason-
ing itself, aud not in any inconsistency in the conditions to be fulfilled. 'The proper remedy seems to be, to trace back the in- till we arrive at that step where the absurdity is im- plied; and, by turning the reasoning into a new traip, to bring out a real and intelligible result by legitimate means. Mathema- ticians have, however, followed a t course. P i nary expressions of real quantities have been retained, and have been invented for ting with them as if they were real quantities: they are multi and divided, added and substracted.
* As in what is called the irreducible case, in Cubics.
although such expressions are uni ply an impo, yet (what is by their means are
porwr Da emenere don, we find a memoir ‘ On the Arit tities,’ written by a mathematician et on the different matters he has treated ; and all whose writings are
equally remarkable for the ingenuity and elegance which they a Justly considering the operations of the imaginary arith- metic as nugatory in point of science and of logical reasoning, he has, in several instances, compared investigations by means of im- ae Pee investigations in whieh real quantities only are and he has shown that, while the latter strictly demonstrate certain properties of the hyperbola, the former, by means of the imagimary characters, to the same properties of the circle. ‘The imaginary arithmetic is there- fore no more thana ga pg ry aaah rer ae tween the circle and hy ; and the truth of its deductions rests ultimately on an Ae from inalogy.
By the speculations of Mr. Playfair, the imaginary investiga- tions assume a scope and purpese : and if he has not gone the length of providing that the conclusions ee > we ts of im-
tities are necessarily true, at sonoma agar: which a strict demonstration may colt enie be drawn.
In the paper before us, Mr. Woodhouse, after having stated the objection commonly urged against the use of imaginary quantities, thus proceeds: >.
‘ From the very concessions of the mathematicians that have op- posed the use of impossible quantities, is to be derived a powerful ar- gument, an argument sufficiently satisfactory to the mind, that opera- tions with impossible quantities are really regulated by the rulesof lo- gic equally just with the logic of possible quantities. It is conceded aud mentioned as a paradox, that the conclanioubebteined by the aid
of imaginary quantities are most true and certain. Now, if operations with any Srey © een ian Se oe o
must be true by virtue or other ; and the against imaginary quantities eer to be obviated upon the unsatis- factory explanation given of their nature and uses.
The drift of this argument is not.very plain. If it. is only meant to say that there must be some way or other of account- ing for the x, that truth is by unintelligible ope- rations, or by faulty reasoning, the position will hardly be deni- ed. On the other hand, if it is intended to argue, that every general method, that uniformly leads to true conclusions, must therefore be regulated by the rules of sound logic, the inference
~~ 4 = =e we os leet oe rk Ce —"
4 a = &
iow See =e & ee em
1803. Woodhouse on Imaginary Quantities. 409
cannot be admitted. We are of opinion that the imagi arithmetic is one glaring instance of the contrary ; but it is not the only instance that can be od. The differential calcu- jus, as laid down by Leibnitz and his followers, is another ex- ec of a method, even more extensiye than the imaginary arithmetic, always leading to truth, and yet founded in false and inconclusive reasoning. We apprehend that, in both instances, the paradox is to be accounted for inthe same way; namely, that the false suppositions always unplied in either method, are obviated and corrected by the very operations which the rules of the calculus require to be performed.
Mr. Woodhouse next avimadverts,on the principle of analogy advanced by Mr. Playfair : and it must be allowed that his stric- tures are well founded, in so faras they go to prove that prin- ciple to be imperfect; and that there is room for farther researches on this subject.
After the observations we have premised, it will beexpected that we are to proceed, with some degree of scepticisin, to the examination of our, author's own mode of explanation; which professes to reconcile with the rules of logic, and with the prin- ciples of sound reasoning, operations in which other mathema- ticians ave beet able'to discover nothing but obscurity and con- tradiction. Every logical process may be traced to certain ulti-
mate principles : and the justréss of the conclusion depends upon
the clearness-of those principles; no less than upon the legitimacy
of the intermediate inferences. Our'attentidn wilt therefore be” naturally directéd to the peculiar notions on which our author
founds’ this’ explanation; and, that’we may proceed fairly, we
shall quote his own words:
* «Tl me semble que comme dans le calenl differentiel, tel qu’on Yemploie, on considere et on calcule en effet les quantités intiniment petites ou supposées infiniment petites elles-memes, la veritable meta- physique de ce calcul consiste en ce que l’erreur resultant de cette fausse supposition est redressée ou compensée par celle qui naitdes pro- cédés mémes.du calcul, suivant le quels on no retient daus la differen- tiation: que les quantités. infinimeut petites; du meme ordre.” La Grange, Theorie des Fonct. Analyt. p, 3.
In the imaginary arithmetic, the characters x «/ —1 and y 4 —1 are in many operations treated like real quantities : but in certain multipli- cations (as 24/—1 x yi/ —l=—ay) it will be found that the sign v¥ —1 is im reality a mark to show thatthe ordinary rule, for the sign of the product in real quantities, is to be reversed, and that — must be written, where, in real quantities, }- would be required. It is by this use of the sign y\—1 that the false supposition implied in impossible quantities is compensated.
VOL, 1. NO, 2. Da
410 Woodhaue on fmaginary Quantiie. Jan.
* The development of ‘+ Gibiio the series +e, &c.) is tf— general, whatever « is, provided it be a real guaniy: bei
Cn ee ato ye fi Zt "23
sV—1 &c, What then is to be understood by ¢ ? Merely this, r,/—-I that ¢ ¥. is an abridged symbol for the series of characters xz
142,/—i———,&c. not proved, but assumed, by extending the 2
xX * Ji , form really belonging to ¢ to ¢ ,
* To remove all doubt and occasion of cavil, it is to be understood
thar {7¥—!' #1 ROMS e + means, thatthe terms of the series which
af—l
. represents, are to be connected with the terms of the series —&tV une
that e represents, according to the rules obtaining for the
addition of real quantities: Again, that 2 —1—#/—1=0, not
by bringing a/—I under the predicament of quantity, and making
it the subject of arithmetical computatien, but by to to a
-++ and — their proper signification, when used £4 real q
and they designate reverse operations.’
Fy ax? * After it is demonstrated thate =1 hay ony &c. most mathema- ay¥—l a* ticians put ¢ =I1+2/—1——, nes wianblerteniieotinidiniy
2
thus supposing that the impossible case is included in the of the real function. Mr. Woodhouse gets rid of this absurdity, by making that an affair of notation, which others assume as a thing de- monstrated. It will net be necessary for us to inquire how far the mat- ter is mended by thisartifice; because the great objection to the use of impossibie quantities, and to the logical justness of the conclusions ob- tained by their means, still rermains in its fall force. What does the se- ries of characters denote? Will it be granted, that the mind can pro- ceed one step in the investigation of truth, without clearly comprehend- ing the objects about which it reasons?
We are next required to grant, that a/ —1—a#/—1=0, not by
bringing 24/—1 under the predicament of quantity, and making it the
Sei vt<se egg Se
eceteac
Sonn eance arom nsrar woesceew.2e foo
1808. Woodhouse on Imaginary Quantities. 411
subject of arithmetical computation, but by giving to the signs + and — their proper signification when used with real quantities, We con- fess we consider this postulate more deserving the name of a metaphy- sical subtlety, than a principle of reasoning clearly laid down. The signs + aud — denote operations to be performed with numbers ; and oF have no signification at all, unless the numbers to be operated with are distinctly conceived in the mind. We contend, that when we put 24/ —1—2,/—I ==0, we treat the character 24/—-1 as the re- . presentative of a number: and that the expression 2,/-- i —a/—. =30, is really supposed to be included in the general case A—A=0, which is legitimate and intelligible only so long as A represents a real number, :
We shall be spared the task of examining further into a mode of explanation which, at the outset, is liable to so great objec- tions. Operations deduced from such principles are undeserving the name of reasoning; and they cannot afford one particle of evidence either of truth or of falsehood. We admit it, that the operations of the imaginary arithmetic exhibit, to the eye, aseries of transformations similar to those that take place in real investi- — : but, in point of science and of reasoning, there isa wide
ifference between the two. For, in real investigations, all the characters are significant ; and the principles from which we set out are clear: and if we stop short at any step of the process, we obtain a proposition distinctly apprehended by the mind, and link- ed to the premises by a chain of legitimate deductions. In ima- ginary investigations, on the other hand, if we stop short of the conclusion, when the impossible quantities have disappeared, we find nothing but a parcel of characters that offer no meaning to the understanding. The excellent geometer, who has advanced the principle of analogy, setting aside the imaginary a has directed our attention to the conclusion to which they lead, and has shewn its connection with another truth that is strictly demonstrated. His researches, indeed, stop here, and he hag left the evidence of the one proposition to rest on the affinity it has with the other, or on the analogy of the curves to which the two propositions may, in all cases, be referred. We have only to go one step further to arrive at asatisfactory solution of the whole difficulty; for, if we dismiss all reference to the circle and hyperbola, and, by a general notation, contrive to express the related ition in algebraic language, free from impossible quantities, it will manifestly appear, that thereis a necessary con- nection between them, independent either of the real or imaginary investigation. If the one ition besupposed to be true, then, by a very extensive principle of analysis, the other will follow as a necessary Consequence 0 a esp But this is not the
°o
412 Woodhouse on Imaginary Quantities. Jan.
place to enlarge on this subject, the importance of which has al- ready occasioned us to transgress our limits.
The mode of application not admitted, the present paper will be found to contain nothing new or interesting to geometers. It is only incumbent on us to notice, that some just observations oc- cur in discussing the controversy concerning the logarithms of negative numbers towards the end of the paper.
We cannot conclude our remarks on this article, without ex- pressing our disapprobation of the mode in which Mr. Playfair’s method of reasoning is attacked, not openly, and by name, but indirectly, covertly, and by insinuation.
Art XII. Oupnekhat (id est, Secretum Tegendum) opus ipsa in India rarissimum, continens anliquam et arcanam,seu Theolo- cam et Philosophicam, doctrinam, é quatuor sacris Indorum libris, Rak Beid, Djedjr Beid, Sam Beid, Athrban Beid, ex- cerptam; adverbum, é Persico idiomate, Samscreticis vocabu- lis intermixto, in Latinum conversum ; dissertatiunibus et an- notationibus, difficiliora explunatibus, illustratum : studio et opera Anquettl Duperron, Indicopleuste, R. Inscript. et Human. Litter Academia olim Pensionar. et Directoris. To- mus I. 4to, pp. 846. Paris. 1801.
F intolerance and fanaticism be the usual concomitants of Isla- mism, (an assertion, we think, somewhat too generally ex-
), the descendants of Tamerlane, who reignedin Hindistan,
ish some remarkable exceptions to the received opinion. At
the head of these illustrious personages we should, perhaps, place Dara Sheeuh, the eldest son of the Emperor Shah Gehan. The attention which this Prince bestowed in investigating the antique dogmas of the Hindu theology, and the munificence with which he rewarded the learned Brahmans, whom he collected from all parts of the empire, furnished his brother Aurengzebe with a pretext'to misrepresent his motives, and to alarm the zealous moslems with the danger of an apostate sueceeding to the throne. The melancholy catastrophe which ensued ; the death of the un- happy Dara, with the long and brilliant reign of the successful hypocrite, who founded his greatness on the destruction of his brothers, are detailed in the page of history. If the sceptical phi- losophers be disposed to exclaim with the Roman Teicurden,
*'Tanta Religio potuit suadere malorum,’ we must state our con- viction, that ambition, not fanaticism, prompted the deed ; though the steps by which he mounted the throne, threw the rigid veil of superstition over the subsequent conduct of Aurengzebe, and gave that tone to his court. i
Under the patronage of Dara Shecuh,a variety of Samscrit works were translated into the Persic language, and, amongst
= «-.86 s&s rH ©}
=e = =» 4 = © Set Oe ee Ue em oe hO == #4
— =: oo hm hlUlUrlUF let OO FO — *S HS
—
1808. M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat. 418
others, that which M. Anquetil Duperron calls Oupnekhat, vel Secretum Tegendum. But before we proceed to consider the merits of his translation, we think it useful to premise a few ob- servations, to illustrate the nature of the original work, and to define the expectations, which might have been formed of the version In this part of our task, we shall derive little assistance from the venerable translator, who seems too readily to adopt the common error of considering every thing that is oriental as curi- ous, every thing that is ancient as sublime, and every thing that is mysterious as profound.
The Hindd. Vedas are referred, by the records and traditions of the Brahmans, to the earliest periods of society. Though it may be impossible to verify their real date, their relative anti- quity appears manifest from their style, already obsolete when the Puranas were composed, to whatever ra these latter com- positions may be referred. Crisna, the island-born, obtained the name of Vyasa, or the Divider, from having arranged them in their present form, and divided them into four portions, the last of which, named Atharvana, seems composed in a style some- what more modern, though the whole must have been anterior to the period at which Vyasa was born, in an islet of the Yamuna. They contain the rude metaphysics, and primeval dogmas of the ancient Brahmans, with a minute detail of religiops rites, cere- monial observances, and incantations, or mantra, which served, or were supposed to serve, as a specific for every calamily, physi- cal and moral.. But of the false religions which have successively obtained in the world, the absurd dogmata have frequently fur- nished a striking contrast with the state of science amongst their followers: knowledge and the arts spring forth, and are progrese sive ; the powers and operations of nature are calculated and ob- served; the human mind becomes the object of its own research- es; general deductions and general maxims enlighten and regu- late the conduct of states, and the transactions of individuals ; but the consecrated veil which covers the arcana of superstition, cannot be withdrawn without impiety ; and an enlightened age frequently views the universal prevalence of unphilosophical, ab- surd, or barbarous dogmata. ‘The massive structures of ancient Egypt attest a considerable progress in mechanics ; but the wars of Typhon and Osiris, and the obscene rites of their local deities, are an insult to reason, and to nature. Would we profit by Gre- cian science, it is to Aristotle, and not io Hesiod, we must have recourse : yet the old bard was probably the faithful historian of opinions which prevailed more or less generally, till Europe was enlightened by the divine rays of a religion revealed from above. The Coran relates that Mohammed was transported into. the moon; but the Kalifs who eens him, and implicitly be-
3
414 M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat, Jan.
lieved in the pretended miracle, employed mathematicians to measure a degree of the circle. From these observations, our readers will possibly infer, that if Indian literature ke ¢ of affording curious or instructive information, it probably is not from the sacred Vedas that the stream will flow. precious volumes have not hitherto been perused by any European. The preceding observations are collected from passages occasionally cited by the Pauranicas and their commentators ; and from the valuable deductions of Sir William Jones, who had inspected several extracts. But it has happened to the Vedas as to the Coran. Though the text of both ~ held sacred by the followers of their respective doctrines, yet a recondite and philosophic sense may frequently be elicited from many, or from most of their expressions ; and in a subsequent age, the ample commen- taries of theologians, metaphysicians, and jurisconsults, have wrought up the scanty materials of their sacred books into a comprehensive but obscure epitome of knowledge, divine and buman.
The term Upanisada, which really signifies arcanum, is used by the Hindis to designate a selection of one or more chapters from the Vedas. ‘The volume of these ercerpta, translated by order of Dara Shecuh, is now presented to the public, clothed in a Roman garb, by M. Anquetil. The plan which this gen- tleman has adopted for the execution of this task, is, in our opin- ion, singularly injudicious. He has endeavoured to execute a translation altogether Jiteral, and as this is utterly impossible, from the discrepancy of the Persic and Latin idioms, he has at- tempted to make it more intelligible, by inserting also the more classic forms of expression between parentheses. The words also, which in his manuscript appeared in red characters, he has tran- — literatim into his version: and, that they might not be
isfigured by the Latin inflections, he has marked their case, by prefixing the Greek article. ‘The result is, a Latin production which an CEdipus might divine, but a Priscian could never con- strue ; with a confused mixture of words, Persic, Arabic, and Sanscrit, admirably exemplifying ‘ that Babylonish dialect * Which learned pedauts mach affect,’ HuDIBRAs.
We have been so fortunate as to procure a copy of the Persic work, and having collated a great variety of passages with M. Anquetil’s translation, are happy ‘to do justice to its accuracy, aud to add our testimony to the very complete knowledge of the ‘Persic he has exhibited throughout his work. It, is painful to detract from this encomium, by mentioning, that our author hints that he derived considerable assistance from his knowledge of the Sapscrit ; and that he has it in contemplation to publish
1803. M. Angquetil, Oupnekhat, 415
a dictionary of that language : whilst the work before us furnish- ass most decisive proofs of his being, totally unacquainted with it. ,
To enable our readers to judge of M. Anquetil’s e, we insert his version of the preface of the Prince Shecuh, giving an account of the motives for undertaking the work ; to which we will annex our own translation, from the Persic copy in our possession.
* Laus dzati (enti,) quod, vox pes *@ bismillah (in nomine Dei) in omnibus libris samavi (ceelestibus) @ secretis antiquis ejus est ; et albam am alketab (inspiratio prime saurate) quod in Koran madjid (glorivso,) desiguatio (illius) cum esm (nomine) supremo ejus est ; et cuncti malaick (legati Dei, angeli,) et libri samavi ex anbia ve aolia (a propbetis et amicis Dei emissi) ; et omne (id omne) comprehen- suin in hoc esm (nomine) est,
‘ Verdm, postea quam ¢ fakir absque tristitid Mohammed Darasha- koh, in anno mille et quinquaginta (1050) ré hedjiri, que cum Kash- mir (in +4» Kasehmir,) paradiso simili, iverat; cum ui attractiva eenaiet alhi (favoris Dei) et beneficio na monteha (non terminato, infigito,) fauste (ejus) voluntatis, perfectum kamalan (perfectorum) cremore- maarfan, ostad ostadan, pir piran, peischvai peischvaian, mohed ha- kaiek agah (decus doctorum, magistrum magistrorum, senem senum, dueem ducum, unitarium (unitatis Dei assertorem,) veritatum coa- scium,) molaschah, pax +4 allah (Dei) et excelsi (super illum !) invenit.
‘ Et cum gustus (voluptas) r@ videre doctos cujuslibet secta, et audire verba excelsa unificationis, simul (ei) provenisset, et plurimos libros mysticos cum conspectu (in conspectum suum) aftulisset, et resalha (scripta breviora) composita fecisset ; et sitis ra petere tohid (unificationem,) quod mare est sine fine, momento cum momento (in dies) amplior (aucta fieret ;) et sententiz (opiniones) subtiles (arduz) cum corde (ad cor ejus) pervenirent, quod status earum, nisi cum verbo Alhi (Dei,) et magisterio (documento) dzat na monthai (en tis non finiti) possibilitatem non habet ; et chm (in) Koran venerando (augusto,) et Fourkan nobili (benigno) plarina ewnigmatice dicta (teeta) sint, et hodié scientes illa pauci inveniri queant ; (Darascha- koh) voluit, quod omnes libros samavi (coclestes) cum eonspecta (in conspectum suum) afferrent, ut ab ipsis. illis (eliceret) verbum Alhi (Dei,) quod ipsum interpretatio sui ipsius est; et si in (uno) libro contractum sit, in libro altero fuse expositam inventum fiat, et ex ille fusd expositione istud compendium scitum eflicitar.
* Intuitum super Toret (legem Moysis,) et Andjil (evangeliam J. Christi,) et Zabour (psalmos Davidis,) et alios codices conjecit; ve- rm expositio tohid (unificationis) in illis etiam (libris) compendiosa et enigmatica (tecta) erat ; et ex interpretationibus paucis, quas ho- mines & commentariis fecerant, petitum cognitum nop redditum est.
‘In pede illius fuit (hinc evenit,) quod, é quo respectu (qua causa) in Indoustap, unitatis contemplatore, sermo cinatio tohid (de unifica-
d4
416 M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat: Jan.
tione) multa est ; et theologis externis et internis sectee antique in- dice, super vehedat (unitate) negatio, et super mohedan (unitariis) sermo non est; quin potids pes xstimationis (illis) est super +4 (pre- cipuum ducunt) contradicere (repugnare) insipientibus hujus tempo- ris, quirseiptés doctos (esse) firmatum dederunt ; et, in pede (vie- timis) eceisiosis, et vexationis, et impietatis, et negationis (veri,) Deum ¢ognoscentibus et unitariis lapsis, omnibus verbis tohid (uni- ficationis,) et cuncto (quod é Fourkan laudando, et oraculis authen- ticis prophetize pure manifestum est, resistentiam ostendunt, (et) vi- am latroniim viam Dei efficiunt. oe
‘ Post a verificatis his gradibus (his cognitis) compertam fuit; qudd in medio hujus tribds antique, pre omnibus libris samavi (ceelestibus) quatuor libri ‘asmani (celestes,) quod, Rak Beid, ‘et Djedjr Beid, et Sam Beid, et Athrban Beid, sit, super anhiai (prophetas) illius tem- poris > qudd major illorum (Brahma qui] Adam sefieullal: (selectus a Dev) et (super quem) pax! est, cum cunctis preceptis delapsi (Sint :) et hee significatio ex ipsis his libris apparens est.
‘Et optimum (purior pars) borum quatuor librorum, omnia secreta selouk (religiosi institut:,) et eschgal (applicationum animi) unifica- tioni purz, in Hie contenta sunt; & itlad Oupnekhat nominant.
* Huic (Principi) veritatis ndagatori ipsi elucidate, cim intaitus su- per principium vabedat (unitatis) entis foret (fuisset,) etvm linge’ ara- bic, et syrianad, et eerakan4 (per sika, et) sahnscreta (samscreticé,) voluit quéd bec Oupnekhatha (+3 Oupnekhat capita, ) quod thesaurus unificationis erat; scientes illum in ist4 tribu etiam pauci manserant ; cum lingua persica (in linguam persicami,) sine minus et plis, et absque affectu (studio) animi, cum interpretatione, recto (sincero) cum recto, voce cum voce, (de verbo ad verbum) cum translata ostendisset, (fecis- set,) intelligerent, quéd hee collectio (synagoga,) que illum Tibrum ab homine islamico (fideli,) hoc quantim (tantoperé) co-opertum et absconditum habent, hoc quodnam secretum est. ie
* Et, ut in bis diebus, urbs Benares, que porta scientia hujas tri- bis est, dependentiam cum (ab) hoe veri indagatore habebat, rs Pandetan & Saniasan, qui completo (cenvenienti) tempore [+3 Beid et} re Oupnekhat scientes (facti) fuerant, chm congregatos fecisset, ipse (Daraschakob) hoc kholasseh (optimum) unificationis, quod Oup- nekhatha, id est, secreta tegenda sit, et monthai (scopus) petitionis cunctorem aoulia Allah (amicorum Dei) est, in anno mille, sexaginta & septem 74 bedjri, sine affectu animi (studio, é samskreto) translatum cum ostendisset (reddidisset ;) et quodlibet difficile, quodlibet verbum altum, quod volebat et petens illud fuit, et querebat et non invenit ; ex hoc Kholasseh (optimo) libro antiquo, quod, sine dubio et ambi- guitate, primus liber samavi (coelestis) et fons verificationis (agnitionis pro vero) et mare unificationis est, congruens Koran glorioso, quin imo, explicatio illius est.
“* Et manifesté apparens sit, quod hoc aieteh (comma, versus) ge- nuineé in veritate hic liber antiquus est ; quod aieteh eum (in) Koran benefaciente, in libro(est)abseondito, non perveniens nisi ad mundatos
rab (domino)mundorum: id est, Koran benefaciens in libro est, quod
i
ausws & itmense Set ee Ww
1805. M. Anquetil, Oupnekiat. 417
ile liber absconditus est, (et) eum comprehensum non faciant nisi cor
purificatum sit; et descendere factus (demissus) a nutritore (conservatere) [mundi et} mundanorum: et cui (cuivis) cogoitum sit, quod hoe aieteh, in veritate, Zabour, et Toret, et Andjil non est ; quin imd, é verbo tanzib (descendere facto), hoc modo manifestum efficitur,, quod in veritate, louh mabfouz (tabula asservatorum, cui eterna rerum fata inscribuntur),. etiam (aieteh) von est; (et) cdm Oupnekhat, quod secretum abscondendum, est, principium (originale exemplar) hujus libri sit, et r@ aiethhai 3 Khoran gloriosi, genuine in illo-inventa fiant ; proindé cum verificatione (certum efficitur) quod liber absconditus, hic liber antiquus sit.
* Et ex hoc (libro), cum hoc (huic) fakir (Daraschakoh) non scita, scita; non intellecta, intellecta fuerunt.
* Et, nisi 2 ro (preter) utilitatem capientes fieri, ipsum (Daram) et natos ipsos ejus, et amicos ipsos ejns, et petentes veritatem, petitum et intentum cam non fuerit ; fortunatus, qui, ut affectum animi infe- licem (pravum) transire fecit (reliquit), puré (sincere), cum modo Dei (excels) hanc translationem, quod cum secreto akbar (per secre- tum magnum) designatum redditum, translationem (esse) verbi Alhi (Dei), ut scivit, derelictionem partialitatis, ut monstravit, legit et intelligit, sine cessatione, et sine metu, et sine tristitia, et liberatus (salvus, beatus), et mavid (confirmatus) (in hoc statu) est futurus.’
We will now proceed to lay before our readers an English ver- sion of the above preface, from the Persic original, which will enable them to appreciate the merit of M. Anquetil’s.
“In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate.
Praise to that being, whose antique mysteries are comprised by all inspired writers in the — (Bismilla), ‘ in the name of God,’ and thanksgiving, which is the commencement of all books in the sacred Coran, refers to that dread name, which includes the host of angels, the inspired scriptures, the prophets, and the patriarchs.
When Darah Shecuh, the resigned worshipper of God, visited Casmir in the year of the Hegira 1050 (A. D. 1640), by the blessing of the Most High, and the unlimited efficacy of his di- vine will, he met with ‘Mola Shah, the chief of the learned, the teacher of teachers, the instructor of instructors, the guide of guides, versed in the subtleties of Unitarianism ; may he be join- ed with God !
As that prince already relished the pleasure of seeing the learn- ed of each sect, and of hearing the sublime doctrines of Unitarian- ism, had perused various treatises of the Susi philosophers, and even composed some himself, the thirst of exploring the Unitarian doctrines (which are a boundless ocean) daily increased, and his mind attained a degree of acuteness and subtlety, which would have been impossible without the immediate assistance and favour of the divine will. Now, the sacred Coran being frequently ob-
418 M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat, Jan.
scure, and few at this day being found of explaining it
a orem se pore a= Aart es the word of God
might furnish a commentary on itself, and what is concisely ex-
pressed in one book, might be elucidated by a reference to others ; idged by the more diffuse.
With this view, he perused the pentateuch, the gospels, and the psalms ; but the unity of God was obscurely and enigmati- cally expressed in these works ; nor did he derive more instrac- tion from the simple translations of hired linguists.
He next desired to ascertain how it happened, that, in Hindus- tan, the unity of God is the frequent theme of discourse, and that the ancient philosophers of Hind (both those who published, and those who concealed, their tenets) neither denjed nor objected to the doctrine of the Divine unity, but, on the contrary, held it as an axiom. Unlike the ignorant race of the nt day, who set up for philosophers, though they have fallen into the track of bioodshed and infidelity, denying the attributes and unity of God, and contradicting the proofs of that doctrine derived from the Coran and authentic traditions: these may be considered as the banditti on the path of God.
in the course of this inquiry it was discovered, that, amongst the Hindus, four inspired books were held peculiarly sacred, viz. the Rik Veda, the Jajur Veda, the Sem Veda, and the Atbervae na Veda, which had descended from ‘ke. skies to the prophets of those times, ef whom Adam (purified by God), may blessings at- tend him! was the chief, containing euies aud precepts ; and this docirine (viz. the unity of God) is clearly expressed in those books,
The essence of those works, which rejate to religious rites, and meditations on the unity of God, is cowprised in tbe Upanisada, which was extracted by the prophets of those days, illustrated by copious commentaries and expositions, and has always been read and considered as an excellent epitome.
As the object of this explorer of truth ( Darah Shecuh) was not the acquisition of languages, whether Arabic, Syriac, Jraki, or Sanscrit, but the proofs of the unity of the Supreme Being, he determined that this Upanasada, which might be considered as a treasure of Unitarianism, shouldbe translated into Persie, without adding or expunging, and without biass or partiality, but correct- ly and literally, that it might appear what mysteries are contained in those books, which the Hindus so carefully conceal from Mos- lems.
As the city of Benares, which is the seat of Hinda science, was a dependency of this explorer of truth (Darah Shecuh), ha- ving assembled the Pandits and Saniassis, who are now the ex- pounders of the Vedas and Upanisadas, he caused a translation
_ ~_
a: tte: wan i fn on mee eae > ai eee ee ere ae
1905. M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat. 419
to be made of this Upanisada, or mysterious secret, which com- prises the object of the researches of so many theologians. ‘This was completed, in an impartial manner, in the year of the Hegi- ra 1067, (A. D. 1656.) Every difficulty, and every sublime doctrine which had occurred before, but could not be explained, was elucidated by this ancicnt compilation; which, without doubt, is the first of inspired works, the fountain of truth, the sea of Unitarianism ; not only consentaneous with the Coran, but a commentary upon it. -
It seems evident, that the following text of the Coran relates to this ancient book, viz. ‘ The holy scriptures are in that book which is concealed; which none can expound but the man of pure heart ; and which was sent from the skies by the Preserver of mankind.’ Now, this description is not applicable either to the psalms, the pentateuch, nor gospel; and from the expres- sion, ‘sent from the skies,’ it caunot apply to the Book of Fate. But the Upanisada, the original of this book, is a very ancient work ; a mysterious secret ; and comprehends all the conditions specified in the holy text, which doubtless refers to it. From it, this adorer of God knew and understood what before was un- known and incomprehensible. But, exclusive of the benefits resulting from it to himself, his posterity, and friends, let the searcher after truth, laying aside his prejudices, and the pleasures resulting from sensual gratification, dispassionately peruse this translation of the great arcanum as the word of God ; and, if he understand it, he will remain free from terror and anxiety, in the perpetual practice of virtue.”
Such is the preface of Dara, which we have selected for the amusement of our readers, in preference to any single passage we could have extracted from work itself. The tenets of the Vedas lie dispersed through the chapters, and are comprised in puerile fables. But we should have thought it our duty to ex- hibit a summary of those doctrines, had this translation been made from the original, or the Persic version borne such marks of au- thenticity, as wi justified us in considering this Upani- sada as a genuine epi of the Indian system. It may be pro- per to state the grounds of our doubts.
Such Persic translations of Sanscrit works as we have had an
portunity of comparing with the originals, are frequently mu- tilated, and often perverted ; the translator seldom succeeds in
iving the full meaning of his author, and never catches his spirit. T pe Doctors, whom Dara employed to translate the Upa-
nisada, were probably actuated by a very different principle from that of affording a fair representation of a system at variance with their own; the subtleties of Hind metaphysics eee reve
be considered as beneath their attention; and the ulty of
420 M. Anquetil, Oupnekhat. Jan.
understanding their abstruse doctrines would add to the bias, al- feady strong, of giving an adequate representation. But, this supposition becomes still stronger, when it is considered that the translation was not ae ee till the very year in which the un- fortunate Dara lost his life ; so that its publication was probably posterior to the death of that prince, and when Aurengzebe al- ready held the usurped reins of empire. Even the preface we have exhibited, in which’ the Uspanisada: is obviously preferred to the Coran, seems to have been written rather with a view to render Dara unpopular amongst his Moslem subjects, than to be the genuine sentiments of a Moslem prince. The impolicy of publishing them by the ‘successor to the throne, affords an addi- tional argument on this head. But tet this be as it may, and not- withstanding the assertions in the preface, the translation has evi- dently been made, not only with abias, but with a determined intention of reconciling the Upanisada with the Coran. To prove this, we have only to state, Brahma is said to be Adam in one place, and in another the angel Gabriel; Visnu'is Michael; and. Mahadeva, Raphael. Whether this work really consists of extracts from the Vedas, or is defaced by Mahometan interpola- tions, is oer we do not undertake to determine: the following grounds of scepticism may, however, be stated. {In an extract, from the Rik, or first Veda, the Atharvana Veda is mentioned, which it is almost certain is of much later date: in another, Crisna, the eighth Avatara, is mentioned, though he, if he lived at all, was contemporary with Vyasa, who arranged and divided the Vedas into their present form, in a much more recent age. These facts are, however, inconclusive; for we are convinced that innumerable interpolations are now incorporated even with the ancient texts of the original.
We have borne a willing testimony to the knowledge M. Anquetil has exhibited of the Persic language: the less agreeable task remains of proving that the intended author of a Sanscrit dictionary, is unacquainted with the | proposes to ex- plain. We shall not draw our proofs any erroneous explanations he has given of Sanscrit , in Which the public might balance between — authorities ; but shew that this gentleman knows the words which oceur in his text (and which are as common as any in the language), only through the medium of the Persic character. In the Devanagari alphabet, in which
_all Sanscrit beoks are written, the sound of G and of K have each a distinct representative : in Persic they are represented by the same character. Hence, Gavalzani is become kiani ; Garga, Kark ; \Gandharva, Kandherb; Ghian and Aghian, Kian and Akian, &c. Again, the short vowels are omitted»in the Persic, though distinctly represented in the Devanagari: hence, the Rik
1808. M. Anquetil, Oupnekhai. 42>
Veda is Rak ; the Jajur, Djedjr; &c. The diacritical points are often omitted: mada ocean, is Suhiends; Budya, knowledge, is Badia; Aditi; the sun, is Adat; Vayu, the wind, Baib ; Varuna (the Indian nts tena &e. These examples will, we conceive, prove conclusive as tothe fact. we would esta~ blish : we hasten, therefore, to quit this unpleasant topic,
To conclude—We are of opinion, that a translation of an Upa- nisada, fromthe Sanscrit into English, would prove a performance of some interest ; but that the value.of the work before us is con- siderably diminished, by coming through the medium of a Persic translation. It is ‘still further reduced, by the injudicious plan adopted by the Latin translator ; insomuch, that nothing less than the beatitude promised by Darah Shecuh, at the conclusion of his preface, to those’ whé shall read:and. understand it, could in- duce any one to persevere in such an attempt, through the me- dium of M. Anquetil’s version.
Art. X1V. Poems: By Mrs. John Hunter. London: Printed by Bensley. Svo. 1802.
HESE poems have some merit; but their beauties are not
of the very highest order, They are chiefly remarkable for
a modest simplicity, both of thought and expression; and are com-
posed, in’ general, with an unambitious plainness, that aims only
at the natural representation of moderate affection; and escapes
the dangers of extravagance, by renouncing all pretension to mag- nificence, force, or novelty.
There is, in fact, no flow, either of words.or,of soul, in the compositions of this poetess; no exuberance of fancy, or brillian- cy of diction ; but a timid and constrained succession of correct and obvious sentiments, in,tame and perspicuous language. She neither rises into grandeur, nor sinks into graceful familiarity ; and wants not only the energy that.is necessary for great under- takings, but the facility by which little ones are performed with applause. Though her subjects are not often very arduous or ex- tensive, she seems afraid to trust herself into them tco far: she throws an unassured and faltering hand across the lyre ; arid, after striking a few ordinary notes, hurries forward fo a conclusion, as
wéf embarrassed with her task, or fatigued with the petty exertion.
Though, in general, but little disposed to venturé dut ‘of ‘the safe and beaten track, she has been sometimes tempted to trans- gress.into originality. _ The effort, however, seems too violent to produce a very pleasing effect ; and it is rather surprise, than ad- miration, that isexcited by such cold and laborious extravagance. We shall quofe only the following recipe for making a lamp to burn in the shrine of Bona Fortuna.
422 Mrs. Hunter’s Poems. Jan.
* It shall be form’d of silent tears, seh alge en 0 ring Congeal'd to crystal by despair.’ P. 58.
The following lines, describing the departure of the gloom month of November, indicate the same hea thse Ha pen f ed to a greater degree of obscurity and Ricekinente:
‘ Why sudden stops my struggling breath,
Why heaves so strong my aching breast 7 Hark ! sounds of horror sweep the troubled glade! Far on a whirlwind borne the fatal month is fled !
* I watch’d his flight, and saw him beas To Saturn’s orb the sullen band ; Where Winter chills the ling’ring year, And gloom eternal shades the land. On a lone rock, far in a stormy main, Incheerless prison pent, I heard the ghostscomplain.’ P. 4.
Whenever any of Mrs. Hunter’s poems, indeed, exceed twenty lines, we commonly find the composition extremely disjointed and abrupt. La Douce Chimere is the affected title prefixed to avery indifferent ode to Fancy, in which the following lines, though a little fantastic, shine out among the rubbish of the remainder.
‘ Thy art can on the moon's beam send
The heart’s warm wish from friend to friend, Through air and ocean’s waste.
And on some bright unchanging star,
Though absent long, and distant far, Remembrance may be plac’d.
Tis happiness to dwell with thee ;
Whate’er we think, whate’er we see, Glows with a brighter dye;
All nature wears a lively green,
The heav’ns expand a blue serene, And man forgets to sigh.’ P. 10, 11.
In some lines to the memory of Chatterton, we find nothing so remarkable, as the tremendous Alexandrines that close the two following couplets : .
‘ Rapid as thought arose the glowing scene, Till poverty, despair, and death, rush’d in between.’ And,
‘ Thy name shall live on time’s recording page, The wonder and reproach of anenlightened age.’ P. 22.
os “se ea
1803. Mrs. Hunter’s Poems. 428
Next come five or six birth-day,odes to the fair writer's son, which have more: of affection and good sense in them, than of poetry or inspiration. They contain some stanzas, however, that are very pleasingly written. ‘They are followed by a short ‘to her daughter, on being separated from her on her marriage,’ of which, the following lines are amiable and elegant:
* Yet will it be, as when the past
Twin’d every joy, and care, and thought, And o'er our minds one mantle cast
Of kind affections finely wrought? Ah no! the groundless hope were vain,
For so we ne‘er can meet again!
* May he who claims thy tender heart Deserve its love, a4 1 have done! For, kind and gentle as thou art, If so belov’d, thou’rt fairly won. Bright may the sacred torch remain, And cheer thee till we meet again!’ P. 33. 34.
‘ Cavishbrook Castle’ is the longest performance in the volame; but we cannot give it much praise, It begins with an invocation to ‘ the queen of inventive thought,’ to ‘ lend. her lightly quiver- ing beams ;’ and proceeds on the old melancholy system of rous- ing one of the old inhabitants of the edifice from his grave, to frown and make speeches among its ruins at midnight. The an- cient legend of Carishbrook unfortunately contains but a few ob- scure incidents ; and Mrs. Hunter, in spite of herinvocation, does not help out their scantiness: by any act of invention. King Charles, of course, is the W ane figure; but he is very ill drawn ; and, though plentifully bepraised and bewailed, excites scarcely any interest in the reader. What, indeed, can be done with such a stanza as the following ?
* Why didst thou seek this luckless strand, Where for thy life the toils were spread 3 Hypocrisy ral’d o’er the land, Good faith and gratitade were fled ; Yet still a loyal. few remain’d, Whose hearts allegiance true maintain’d : But fate furbade their hope to save, And led thee through a maze of sorrow tothe grave.’ P. 45.
The poem concludes with this ‘most lamentable quartain—
*Sure dastard fear must have supprest
The groan which heav’d a nation’s breast:
"Tis ours in happier times to prove
The monarch’s safety in bis people’s love.’ P. 48.
424 Mrs: Hunter's Poems. Jan.
It would be invidious to quote any more of this lady’s alexan- drines; but we would be glad to know’ what she means:by ‘ the endless universal mind ;’ or how she proposes to extricate
the construction of the following stanza. . .
* See from its centre bends the rifted tower,
Threat'ning the lowly vale with frowning pride,
O’er the scar’d flocks that seek its shelt’ring side,
A fearful ruin o’er their heads to pour,’ P. 65.
The ‘ Songs and Ballads,’ many of which have been for some time familiar to the lovers of music, appear to us by far the most valuable part of the publication. ‘They are by no'means, how- ever, without great faults. “The Wandering Lady,’ whose song is said to be founded on a true story (though it contains no story at all), addresses her whole ditty, to her sheep, like any shep- herdess of romance. 1
* My sheep, companions kind and true, Yes, can feel a pang for you.’ &c. P. 77.
We had really imagined that this senseless jargon was out of fashion even with our sweet singers. Throughout the songs, we meet with too many of the feeble expletives of our common bal- lads. One loving damsel insists upon following her swain abroad,
‘ On all his wandering steps to wait,
And give the comfort in her pow'r.’ .
This, however, seems to be a favourite phrase ; for we find it again. Another damsel complains—
* This anxious aching bosom finds No comfort in its power.’ Another enters into a hall, full ‘ Of lords, and knights, and ladies fair, Who silent all remain.’
These lines have not much meaning.. There are others, how-
ever, that are altogether unintelligible : as, * Where the green ivy twining, Binds round the burn’s brow.”
Or,
* Plunge them in seas of melted ore, Crown them with poniards dip'd in gore.’
The best songs in the book are those that are best known ; though there are several which we do not remember to have met with before, that possess very considerable merit. We insert the following :
19083. Mrs. Hunter’s Poems. 42h
‘ Time may ambition’s nest destroy, Though on a rock ’tis perch’d so high, May find dull av’rice in his cave, And drag to light the sordid slave ; But from affection’s temper’d chain To free the heart he strives in vain.
* The sculptur’d urn, the marble bust, By time are crumbled with the dust ; But tender thoughts the muse has twin’d For love, for friendship’s brow design’d, Shall still endure, shall still delight, Till time is lost in endless night.’ P. 66.
The following stanzas seem to have been composed in imita- tion of our older song-writers.
‘ Far, far from me my love is fled, In a light skuf he tempts the sea, The young Desires his sails have spread, And Hope his pilot deigns to be.
* The promis’d land of varied joy, Which so delights his fickle mind, In waking dreams his days employ, While I, poor I, sing to the wind.
‘ But young Desires grow old and die, And Hope no more the helm may steer ; Beneath a dark and stormy sky Shall fall the late repentant tear.” P. 98-99.
There is not much meaning in the succeeding lines ; but they are rather pretty.
* O tuneful voice, I still deplore Those accents which, though heard no more, Still vibrate on my heart ; In Echo’s cave I long to dwell, And still would hear the sad farewell, When we were doom’d to part.
‘ Bright eyes, O that the task were mine, To guard the liquid fires that shine, And round your orbits play ; To watch them with a vestal’s care, And feed with smiles a light so fair, That it may ne'er decay.’ P. 103.
Those lines, also, are not without spirit—
‘ Ah, to forget! the wish were vain! Our souls were form’d thus fond to be ; # VOL, 1. NO. 2, Ee
| | | | |
ae Ba ap nse nn nnn
———-
Mrs, Hunter’s Poems.
No more I'll murmur and complain, For thou, my leve, wilt think on me. * Silent and sad, Ftake my way, As fortune deigns my bark to steer ; Of hope a faint and distant ray Our far divided days shall cheer. ‘ Ah! to return, to meet again! Dear blissful thought! with love and thee! No more I marmur and complain, For thou, my love, wilt think on me.’ p. 96.
Upon the whole, we are of opinion that this volume will scarcely carry down the name of its author to a very distant ge- neration. The greater part of the pieces it contains may be said to be very decently written: but they are extremely deficient in fire and animation ; and are neither calculated to move by their pathos, nor to enchant by their beauty. Mrs. Hunter ap- pears, from her book, to be a very amiable and accomplished woman: but poetry really does not seem to be her vocation; and rather appears to have been studied as an accomplishment, than pursued from any natural pope. Her verses are such as we might expect from half of our well-educated ladies, if poetry were to be taught, like music or painting, in the ordinary course of female instruction, and odes and elegies exacted at the boarding school with as much rigour as concertos and pieces in crayons.
Art. XV. Observations on the two lately discovered Celestial Bodies. By William Herschell, L.L.D. F.R.S. From Phil. Trans. 1802.
O? astronomical readers are acquainted with the interesting discoveries which have, within the space of a few months, introduced to our acquaintance two new celestial bodies; the one named Ceres, by its discoverer Piazzi; the other called Pallas, by its discoverer Olbers. Our own indefatigable astrono- mer Dr. Herschell, who has himself, by his numerous and accu- rate observations, so far extended the bounds of human know- ledge, ap te have directed his attention, without loss of time, to the new and interesting field of observation opened to him by his brethren on the Continent. The results of his first inquiries were, as might be expected, extremely interesting. He found that the magnitude of these planets, or, as he calls them, moving stars, was much inferior to that of the other primary planets, or even of their satellites. Thus he found that Ceres has a diameter only three eighths the diametes
RESERBBS BReeresn
Canal a —]
_BFEFTOsss ¢&
1803. Herschell on the New Planets. 427
of the moon. In the present paper, besides extending the same observation, and the same conchisions to Pallas also, this excel- lent astronomer has given us a sét of néw and accurate observa- tions, tending to éstablish some Very singular and interesting facts. We hold it to be a duty arte eg incumbent on us to present our readers with a sketch of this very valuable .
The first remarkable circumstance that strikes us in all the ob- servations, is the great difference between the real magnitudes and the lucid disks. By one measurement with the most delicate micfometer, pr a wd ted for the purpose of such experi- ments, the deer 1 Ceres. was found to be only three fourths of the lucid disk ; aiid that of Pallas only two thirds. ‘The angle which the former subtends, was found to be only 0.38 ; that of the latter no more than 0.13. He calculates, by a rough es- timate, that the diameter of Ceres is only 161.6 miles, and that the diameter of Pallas is no more than 1104 miles.
From the very small quantity of matter which these bodies contain, we cannot expect that they can have any satellites : ac- cordingly various observations concurred to convince Dr. Her- schell that this is consistent with truth. He also determined that Ceres has a visible disk, but that Pallas cannot be discovered to haveany. The last set of observations are extremely important for ascertaining the precise nature of the two new bodies. By them it is ascertained, that both the stars have at all times a small co- ma or haziness, which grows denser near the nucleus.
Our author next proceeds to make his observations upon the result of these inquiries. He begins by defining planets to be celestial bodies of a considerable size and small eccentricity of orbit, moving in planes not very different from that of the earth, in direct curves, at considerable distances from each other, with no atmospheres, that bear any rtion to their diameters, and of bulk sufficient to retain satellites in their orbits. It is evident that, with this definition, the new stars but ill agree. Our au- thor then defines comets to be very small celestial bodies, mov- ing in directions wholly undetermined, and in most eccentric orbits, situated in every variety of position, and having very ex- tensive ea we Although the definition agrees in most par- ticulars with the circumstances of the new stars, it differs in that of the atmosphere, which, in the comets, is at the very least a hundred times greater than the diameter of the nucleus, and in the new stars is orily a few times greater. Dr. Herschell there- fore maintains; that thesé¢ bodies are neither referable to the class of comets wed rose but he gives them the name of Asteroids, which he thus ;
* Asteroids are celestial bodies, which move in orbits either of little or ef considerable eccentricity, round the sun, the plane of which
Eee
426 Herschell on the New Planets, Jam
may be inclined to the ecliptic in any angle whatsoever. Their motion may be direct or ret , and they may or may not have consider- able atmospheres, very small comas, disks, or nuclei.’ P. 229.
Having thus followed the Doctor through his very interesting mendes we must now proceed to the more invidious, but equally necessary part of our office, and offer a few remarks u the Doctor’s theory; premising, that we rely with the most im- plicit confidence on the accuracy of his observations, from long experience of his great skill, patience, and fidelity, and from our knowledge of the unrivalled excellence of his instruments. It is to his conclusions alone that we object; and, with all deference, we hold ourselves as well qualified to judge of the truth of these, as if we had ourselves made or verified the ob- servations upon which they are founded.
And, first, we must positively object to the unnecessary intro- duction of new terms into Philosophy. ‘The science of Astro- nomy is, beyond any other branch of the mixed mathematics, loaded with an obscure and difficult technology. As all nations have been observers of the heavenly bodies, so all languages have contributed to form the nomenclature of the astronomer. Not only are the same bodies indifferently known by a variety of names,
- but, so defective is the phraseology, that no one list can be given in two or three languages, or according to two or three systems of mythology. To a person who had resided in ancient Italy and Greece, on the banks of the Nile, of the Ganges and Euphrates, in modern Europe, and amongst the Gothic nations, the astrono- mical technology might be natural and simple, as it is composed of all the languages spoken, all the mythologies received, and many of the court calendars published in these various eountries and distant ages. Knowing, as we do, the great power of words in misleading and perplexing our ideas, we cannot allow the unne- cessary introduction of a new term to escape unnoticed. Where a new object has been discovered. we cheerfully admit the right of the discoverer to give it a new name ; but we will not allow a veedless multiplication of terms, or an unnecessary alteration in the old classification of things, to be either justifiable or harmless, a substitute for real discovery, or a means of facilitating the pro- gress of invention. It remains, therefore, to inquire, whether the circumstances of Ceres, or of Pallas, distinguish them from the bodies formerly known ?
We cannot admit the difference of magnitude to be of any im-
ortance, while the largest and the smallest planets, Jupiter and ercury for instance,—the largest and smallest satellites,—the largest and smallest comets, between which the difference of mag- nitude is still more remarkable,—while all these bodies are several-
2 BSSQSSSSTCOPEAEB SCs ee ebro moe ee oes See Eee ab eons ee
1808. Herschell on the New Planets. 429
ly arr: under the same classes, from considerations wholly inde of their size, it is but a clumsy and cumbersome in- vention, to arrange a new body under a separate class, from the mere difference of its bulk. ee certainly with diminished force, to the other crit assumed by the Doctor, the difference in the position of the planes of motion ;. and most unquestionably, the mere circumstance of wanting satellites, is no distinguishing mark, while so many of the acknowledged planets have none; nor, indeed, is it by any means certain that, as the Doctor seems to think, the mass of matter in the new ts is insufficient to retain secondary bodies in their orbits. proportion of their distances from-the cen- “tre of the system, or thew proximity to each other, is evidently no better criterion. | In short, if it shall be admitted that comets move in ellipses ; that the chief difference between those bodies and planets, con- sists in the greater eccentricity of the cometic orbits, in the ceptible atmosphere which accompanies them, and in the state of ignition which we have every reason to believe is the cause of that atmosphere ; the more philosophical view of the subject would certainly be, to consider both planets and comets as bodies of the same nature, forming different parts of one great system. indeed, Dr. Herschell himself admits the probability of the comets cooling in the process of time, and their at di- minishing, so as to reduce them to the state of planets in every thing but their magnitude and eccentricity ; and he applies the same remark to the case of the new bodies. Such an observa- tion is obviously destructive of the principle of arrangement for which he contends. But whatever may be our opinion upon this subject, or however much we may be disposed to admit the propriety of distinguishing comets from planets; in the present state of our knowledge, the grand circumstance of concentricity is evidently sufficient to authorize a classification of the new bodies under the head of planets ; and the discovery of them is chiefly valuable, on account of their coincidence in certain parti- culars, with the nature of comets, and their differing from those bodies in the extent of their atmospheres, probably in decreased ignition. If it shall be found demonstrated, that the cometary orbits are elliptical, and not parabolic, these new planets will form a sort of link in the system, in consequence of an interme- diate step between the greater and the smaller, the concentric and eccentric heavenly bodies. In the meantime we must enter our protest to the formation of a separate class, distinguished by a new and uncouth name. Such being our opinion, it is of much less consequence to in- quire whether the new name 4 Asteroid is the most appropriate eS ‘
430 Herschel] on the New Planets.
that could be imagined.. To us, that name presents the idea of some body resembling fixed stars: whereas the two new
have no one circumstance in common with those distant bodies. If a new name must be found, why not call them by some appel- lation which shall, in some degree, be descriptive of, or at least consisteyt with, their properties? Why not, for instance, call them Concentric Comets, or Planetary Comets, or Cometary Planets; or, if a single term must be found, why may we not coin such a phrase as Planetotd or Cometoid.
Dr. Herschell’s passion for coining words and idioms, has often struck us as a weakness wholly unworthy of him. The invention of a name, is but a poor achievement in him who has discovered whole worlds. Why, for instance, do we hear him talking, in
220 of this volume, of the space-penetrating power of his instrument—a compound epithet and metaphor which he ought to have left to the poets, who, in some future age, shall acquire glory by celebrating his name? The greatest discoverers have scarcely ever immortalized their deeds by efforts of nomenclature. Columbus, Cabral, Gama, and Cook, left the honour of being attached to the regions which they had penetrated, to the im- postors who succeeded them, or the princes and saints whom
= Bape
he other papers of Dr. Herschell, in the late volumes of the transactions do not deserve such particular attention. His cata- logue of 500 new nebule, which concludes this volume, though extremely valuable to the practical astronomer, leads to no gen- eral conclusions of importance, and abounds with the defects which are peculiar to the Doctor’s writings—a great prolixity and tedi- ousness of narration—toose, and often unphilosophical reflections, which give no very favourable idea of his scientific powers, how- ever great his merit may be as an observer—above all, that idle fondness for inventing names, without any. manner of occasion, to which we have already alluded, and the use of novel and affected idioms. Thus, he begins, by telling us about his telescopic ; he then speaks of the natural history of the heavens ; he then prelects upon the construction of the heavens, an expression by which he indeed means nothing more than the arrangement of the fixed stars ; but which is immediately founded upon the vul- gar notion of the sky being a blue vault, and tends to support that idea. We do not object to the needless of binary sid- erial systems of insulated stars, of quintuple and multiple stars, of erratic orbits, clustering stars, multiple flexures, empty centres, stellar nebula, milky nebulosity, lacteus chevelure ;—these » though useless, clumsy, and confusing, are nevertheless suffi- ciently consistent and etymological. t what shalt we say of such a phrase as a straight line orbit? Does not this set all ety-
Sl eawrrweece egpreuse
a f h a dl 8 si h I . 3
Herschell on the New Planets. 491
and consistency at defiance : n this subject, we shall pore ares enlarge: but Dr. Flotocheh wnat excuse any of his
who shall either shut his book in disgust, when he heaps useless difficulties in their way, or shall fail to
meaning, when he thus ully obscures it, by unin-
apr ake Sarena ete ee one the Doctor on nature of the sun, sedltciqhe bee selene, we have many similar tions ; are all eclipsed by the grand absurdity which he has there committed, in his hasty and erroneous theory concerning the influence of the solar spots on'the price of grain. Since the fiscver bon fre the mr ta, nothing so ridiculous ever been offered to the world. We heartily wish the Doctor had su pressed it ; or, if determined to publish it, that he had
it im language less confidett and flippant.
Art. XVI. Principes d Economie Politique, ouvrage cour-
t [Institut National, dans sa Séance du 15 Nivose,
, et depuis reou, corrigé et augmenté par ? Auteur.
Par N. F, Canard, Ancien Phase e Mathématiques a Ecole Cenirale de Moulins. Paris. 1801. vo.
7 the year 1600, the National Institute wr fakin in ya
the following question, as a subjcct of prize essays
true, that, im an agricultural country, taco eoery deri
fall ultimately on the proprietors of land ? ly important, but of very difficult solution. "Revahaned the sntention of etonemical authors, both in England and upon the Continent, for more than a century ; though though prior to the speculations of Quesnai, it can hardly be said to have ever beer stated in a very strict form. Since the first publication of that 's discoveries, his famous project of a territorial tax as been the subject of much reasoning among French writers ; whose topics on both sides, were so plausible, that the argument was not yet brought to a close, when the distractions of the Revolution suspended for a while the calm discussions of philo- sophy- It is pleasing to observe, after the tempest has sub- that the minds of men spring back to the same difficulties which formerly prevoked their emulation, and exercised their
ingenuity, \ Amidst, indeed, that reprobation of the past, which in the feelings of the succeeded to fanaticism and terror, Economists
founded with the Jacobins and Anarchists ; the vocates of regulated freedom have been classed with the most criminal disturbers of social _ But though the name of
432 # M. Canard, Principes.d’Economie, Politique. — Jan.
those virtuous sages is for a while subjected panetenm and though their excellent writings may be laid aside or i ed, the i which they gave to the public mind still remains in force. important questions which they started, again oc- cur for investigation. ‘The reforms of administration, which they recommended, force themselves upon the memory of those who have witnessed a change of dynasty, rather than of system. Even those prospects of political improvement, which flattered the benevolent anticipations of the economists, will soon be re- cognised as sound conclusions of science : and it, will at length be acknowledged that Turgot, and Mirabeau, and Quesnai, were the friends of mankind, and that their-genius and their labours were devoted to the refinement of social happiness, and the con- solidation of the political fabric. | men
The prize of the National Institute wasadjudged te M.Canard for a Memoir, which, by subsequent alterations, he has formed into the present work. It certainly does not present a,satisfac- tory solution of the question proposed, nor even, in our. opinion, an approximation to it ; on the contrary, we are inclined,to sus- pect, that the view which he has taken of this subject isin many respects erroneous. His essay, however, is written,with .con- siderable ability. From some of the following criticisms, it will probably appear, that he has added nothing to our knowledge of political economy, and that the style. and.ferm which he has
ed are not very well calculated either to illustrate or to dif- fuse truths already ascertained. At ihe same time, the work will be read with pleasure by those, who, being already masters of the subject, can be gratified with the variety of aspects under which it may be considered, as well.as with the comparative state of their favourite science among the learned of different countries.
In conducting his investigation of the proposed by the Institute, the author found himself obliged to recur to some of the fandamental principles in the theory of political economy. The truth is, that the equable. diffusion, or exclusive incidence of taxes, cannot be ascertained by any direct induction of parti- cular facts ; but must be obtained synthetically, after a just ana- lysis, both of price and of the order according to which the an- nual prerce is distributed among, the . .M, Canard has
given his Essay a more title than belongs to the question which first. suggested it ; and he » by this title, to have been tempted to introduce several ers which have no relation to the principal object of inquiry. . .
In the first chapter, the author gives an explanation of funda- mental principles ; or rather of the sense in which he employs certain terms: for they are stated more in the manner of i
——<—A se SEM EE ee OW eeewreseecsesweerzrrs. =
i, ee ee en a a a a
2005S. M. Canard, Principes d'Economie Politique. 438
tions that are assumed, than of truths to which we are conducted by analysis. He begins with illustrating a distinction between necessary and ; by the former, he means that of , which the is indispensably necessary to the existence and preservation of man, as;well as to the continuance or re- placement of stock; by, the latter, he means that portion which ministers to our superfluous. accommodations, and of which the produce, if not consumed, in superfluous enjoyment, goes to augment the quantity of accumulated stock. He afterwards pro- ceeds to this position, that. every thing which has exchangeable value derives its price from, the several quantities of labour that have successively been a it. As different forms of the same proposition, he assumes, that all arty consists in so much accumulated labour; and that the ex geable value of every portion aowente consists in the labour which it will purchase or co . What other writers, accordingly, have called accumulated stock or capital, he denominates travail exi- ge j and as every addition to this accumulated stock is derived rom the produce of what he has styled superfluous labour, he introduces another epithet into this phrase, denominating accu- mulated stock éravasl superfiu exigible. Proceeding in the ap- plication of these terms, he asserts, that all wealth, property, and riches, consist only of travaed super/lu exigib/e ; and that necessary labour being absorbed either.in, necessary consumption, or in the replacement: of capital, can never form a part of the actual mass of riches. In the same style, he lays it down as a prin- pe sand it is the accumulation of unconsumed superfluous which creates all.the \sources of revenue; from which it follows, that all revenue,cousists in the profit.of this accumu- oe OE AY OTE all this, M. ‘appears tous to display very little sa- gacity. Hehas, without-any necessity, affected to change the established forms of expression ; and has confounded principles which are. carefully distinguished in the works from which he evidently derived his information. In asserting that exchange- able value'consists of labour stored up, he appears to have prefer- red the errors of our English writers to the seenneiaeeeae Leet aurea: 8 eantobodin b he might have in va- rious nt works, i in bis own 3 particular- ly those of M. Turgot and of the; Abbé Menlet ietee shall, in another part of this ,article, enter into a more, detailed ex- planation of the fallacies! involved in this supposition. It appears quite a puerile mistake to say, that accumulated stock ‘is wealth; and that the produce, reserved for immediate consum tion, forms no. portion of the, mass of riches, Surely, it is the capability of being consumed,'that renders any produce a part of
484 $M, Canard, Principes d\Economie Politique. Jan.
wealth ; and if it were necessary to make a distinction, in this re- spect, between stock already in consumption, and stock accumu- nai a fh imperfect i suggests also a very
the subject to say, that accumulated wealth is the source of all re- venue. It is unquestionably a necessary copdition for the duction of revenue ; but it is, which are necessary. In the theory fertility of the soil, the natural powe ; accumulation of capital for the requisite advances, are all of them conditions of which the existence ig indispensable to reproduction. It gives but a partial view of the actual: of nature, ptt Pay tla oH them, singly, as the source of revenue : yet such is the propensity of speculative men to simplify, that each of the three conditions has been separated from the rest for that purpose. ‘The economists selected the first; some other French writers, who have not risen to such Pe nen a second; and M Canard, with less plausibility than either, has affirmed that the source of revenue is accumulated stock. It was an unavoidable corollary from that propesition, to infer, as he has done, that all revenue consists in the profit of stock. But he loses, in this manner, the advantages of that very useful and accurate classification, which distinguishes revenue, according te the three ee eee tics nite Gate civak’ ented
The second chapter, on Money, isa very trivialone, It contains nothing but what the author might have assumed as familiar to all his readers.. The work is certainly not suited to those to whom the subject is entirely new. But this chapter does not even enu- merate one half of the propositions, with regard to money, which
now be considered as perfectly well ascertained.
The j Pa MI SOLIS a ge ts of commoditzes. lt opens with a very formal and distinet enun- ciation of the principle, which we have already neticed in our ac- count of the first, and which assigns the quantity of labour em- ployed ona commodity, as the essential constituent and measure of its exchangeable value. This notion, which is certainly incorreet, is far from being peculiar to M. Canard: it is much employed in the treatise ef Smith on the ‘Wealth of Nations, and has the ef- fect of involving, in every obscurity, all the observations which that profound author has delivered on the analysis of price. An ingenious and very learned economist* appears to have sup-
* Plan for altering the indmnne6f collecting @ large portion of the public revenue, d&c. By the Earl of Lauderdale.
om nenernrvedozwsezwsse =
eee. a ee se ee ee oe ee
1808. M. Canard; Principes d'Economie ‘Politique. 435
posed, that this principle originated with Mr. Rice Vaughan, whose excellent discourse on coinage was composed during the ae L; but it may be found in writers of a much date, and, to omit the intermeciate authorities, is ly stated and illustrated in a passage of Aristotle’s Ethics.* is, indeed, no necessity of supposing, that any one of these writers borrowed the idea from his pi : it is one of those errors Mon obviously “~ ret cates er notions of na- equity. ‘it has. admitted without suspicion, into some systematical works which deservedly possess a high reputa- tion, and still continues to infect the reasonings of many politi- cians, our readers, we , will not be displeased that we take this opportunity of explaining our reasons for rejecting it. It is proper that we should transcribe M. Canard’s statement in his own language,
*Iis’'agit maintenant de déterminer ce qui fixe le prix de ce qui a de la valeur parm{ les hommes. D'abord, le prix n'est autre chose que le rapport de valeur d’une chose a une autre ; et comme on com tout ala valeur de l’or ou de l'argent, le prix est lé rapport de‘ valeur de chaque chose a celle d'une quantité déterminée de l'un ou de Vautre de ces métaux. Or, maintenant, quelle est la cause que peuvent déterminer ces différens rapports ; ou, ce qui revient au méme, quel est le principe qui assigne 4 chaque chose sa valeur 2 Jl est certain dabord que, puisque tout ce qui a.du prix est le résultat du travail, la valeur d’yn objet quelconque doit étre en raison du travail, qu'il a cotté. Il est certain, en second lieu, que, si tous les hommes étaient bornés aux besoins absolus de leur conyersation, si tout leur travail était naturel, et qu’il ne differat que par le temps, ce serait la durée seulé du travail qui en mesurerait la valeur: ainsi Jes jours et les heures seraient les unités et les fractions d’unités nominales qui déter- mineraient les valeurs de toutes chose., C’est probablement a de serablables divisions de temps qui doivent Jeur premidre origine les unités nominales adoptées chez les différens peuples, telles que le franc, la livre sterling, le florin, etc. Mais les différentes espéces de travail appris présentent une si grande variété dans la valeur du tra- vail, que le temps ne peut lui servirde mesure.’ P. 26,27. °
When labour is said to be a measure of exchangeable yalue, there are two senses in which this proposition may be under- stood; two ways in which the labour, that is to form this mea- sure, may be estimated. ‘The exchangeable value of ‘a dity may either be measured by the quantity of labour that had been employed in is own production, or by the labour that had been employed on the commodity for which it has exchanged. proscis = Node doctrine which we are about to examine, these two quantities of labour must have been equal. “Those authors,
* Ethic. Nichom. V, c. 8. Edit. Duval.
cl eyes
. *
436 M., Canard, Principes d@ Economie Politique. Jan.
accordingly, who urge this doctrine, most confidently, their measure of value, sometimes the one. » and times the other... That the; value.or price of an article on the labour that has been. employed in producing it, and that the value or price of an article consists in the labour which i will purchase or command, are stated. by them as the same pro- position.in, two forms. ‘
‘L hough it were true, in point of fact, that what is given in exchange for a commodity is just so much labour as was employ- ed in ucing the other commodity for which it is exchanged, it w bea nugatory inference, that that labour measures the exchangeable value of the first commodity. The conclusion would reach no farther than this, that, in the exchange of two subjects. each measures the exchangeable value of the other ; or that the exchangeable value of a certain quantity of any one article, may be measured by the quantity of another for which it is actually exchanged. Bat, in point, of fact, it is not true, that the thing purchased in every bargain is merely se much labour ; for the value of the raw) material, on which that has been employed, can neither, to use the language of mathemati- cians, be rejected as nothing, nor estimated as a constant quanti- ty. . The value of raw materials, like that of manufactured ar- ticles, and of labour itself, varies with the proportion of ly and demand. In some manufactures, indeed, the price of the raw material is, in proportion to the labour employed almost infinitely small: for example, the value of the flax in a pair of lace , that of the kelp and sand in a vessel of cut glass, that of the iron and charcoal in a steel watch-spring. But, in all these instances, the supply of the raw material is abundant. There are other manufactures, in which the value of the raw material is, in jonrto that of the labour employed, by no means so small. a shawl of Cashmere, for example, the value of the wool, which is of a very rare kind, greatly exceeds the value of all the labour bestowed in weaving and embroidering it. eh Lg wpe lag eyo » the whole value of the labour emp by the miner, the lapidary, and the jeweller, may be coiled on savers infinitely small in comparison of the value of that labour, if we may use the ex ion, which nature has bestowed in effecting such a beautiful and rare crystallization of one of her most ordinary substances.
It is y incorrect to say, that the ex value of a odity may be measured, or is determined, by the labour that has been employed in its production. That the wages of the whole labour, employed in preduction or in manufacture, form a component of price, is an undeniable pence: in other words, that the quantity of the commodity bought must
|
=
x
de eo 2 ee 2. ae ek oe a, ae ee a
1903. M. Canard, Principes d’ Economie Politique. 437
be adequate to replace, by a circuit of other exe , the whole CommaAity old. Bat the proper mode of ltrodacing the pr commodity sold. t this pri ciple into the theory of exchangeable value, is, uittnieadahiee value of labour as constituting the whole price, or an adequate measure of it, but to view it as a condition which limits the eventual supply of each commodity. If the whole quantity of commodities, advanced or consumed in the production of an article, be not replaced by its exchangeable value in the market, the re particular commodity will certainly be so far lessened, until, by the influence of this diminution upon its value, that replacement is complete. But, in the actual ex- change of any one commodity for any other, no regard is paid to the quantity of labour employed in producing either ; the quanti- ties, reciprocally exchanged, are ioned by the competition between the supply and demand of both. These are subject to continual fluctuation. If of two commodities, the demand of the one is increasing at a particular time while the supply remains unaugmented, and the demand of the other is diminishing while the supply remains undiminished, it is manifest, that, at the partic time, the respective quantities of the two commodi- ties exchanged for each other may have cost, in their production, very unequal quantities of labour. Quantities of labour, it is
» Very nearly equal, are expended, in order to send to the London market the finest black and the finest blue cloths. But a sudden death in the royal family will raise the price of black cloth to the height of twice or thrice that of Sass; one yard of the former will be considered as exchanging for two or three yards of the latter; that is, in the language of which we dispute the propriety, a certain quantity of labour is given on the one side, for twice or thrice that quantity of labour on the other.
It is evident, that all the errors on which we have animadvert- ed, originate in an imperfect view of the real nature of exchange- able value, and of the principle by which it is at all times regu- lated. . We shall, therefore, take this opportunity of stating and explaining its definition.
value of any commodity is the assignable quantity of any other commodity, for which an assigned quantity of the former may be exchanged. in this respect, every commodity may be considered as exchangeable for every other ; and what we call the value of any one may be expressed by assigning a quantity of any other. Under the name of commodities, in this general de- finition, we comprehend not only rude produce and manufactured articles ofevery kind, but money, likewise, or the coined metaly ef every denomination, and labour of every description.
438 M, Canard, Principes d’ Econoiie Politique. Sth. The reciprocal value of any two commioditi¢s; that is, the re-
spective ions of each, which are d for one another, pet sarewativcheras trometer j or by the proportion between the and the of each of
mand and supply of the other. Whoever attempts to ascertaiti the variation of prices from one age to anothér, must, with re- spect to evety two commodities compared , take into consideration all of these four circumstances. can be no doubt, that the exchangeable value of labour, that is, the quan- tity of corn or of cloth, for example, which is given in ex
for a certain quantity of labour, is regulated at all times by result of the same four circumstances: the of that ticular species of labour which is in question, demand for po es ate abd ply of the particular kind of grain or cloth in question, and the demand for that gtain, or that cloth. All of these circumstances severally affect the reciprocal value of any one kind of labour as exchanged for any one kind of grain, or for any one kind of cloth. Let us take for an the labour of a common pleughman, and estimate the exc able value of that quantity, which is understood to be incli in a day’s work, in terms, of one particular of grain, such as oats. It is evident that the quantity of oats, given in ex- change for a day’s labour at the plough, will become greater, if there is either a diminished supply of ploughmen, or an increased demand for them; or an increased supply of oats, or a diminished demand for that sort of grain. On the other hand, the quantity of oats, given in exchange for a day’s labour at the plough, will become less, if there is either an increased supply of , ora diminished demand for them; or a diminish= ed supply of oats, or an increased demand for that sort of grain. In each of these single changes, while the three other circumstances remain ewan the change of relative price will take place as 'y described. But two, or more, or all, of the four circumstances may be fluctuating at one time ; and the final result of value will depend upon the in which the several variations co-operate, or counteract the effect of each other.
Though M. Canard has adopted, in its most unqualified form, the error which we have thus pe grasathatie tres die led him to any false conclusions in his account-of the manner in perm! fon tee wags He appears to have contented himself with establishing it absolutely, as an important and fun-
?
BoaospeaeeowEe Ss
1908, M.Canard, Princtpes d’ Economie Politique: 439
damental truth in political economy ; and with.an ineonsistency, of which he seems unaware, proceeds to derive from the prin- ciple of mutual ition the various conclusions which he has arranged, in this fifth c , om the subject of prices. It may be inferred, from the details inte which we have found it necessary to epter, that he has not stated that prineiple in the most explicit manner, nor developed ali the consequences, with respect
tion. He has thought proper fo adopt the language and forms of algebra; and several arid even folded sheets, are crowd- ed with characters symbols.’ it is right that our readers should have a specimen of this, as wellas of the other parts of the work. Let the difference between the highest price demanded De Ean siete wentvinne aleast painn Neseend typ Shed Supe De called L; and let x represent that part of this difference which the sellers are finally content to take in addition to the lowest price ; L—x will be that other portion of the difference, which the buyers finally succeed in retrenching from the highest price. Call the desire of the buyers to purchase B, and their competi- tion N ; call the desire of the sellers to dispose of their b, and their competition ». It is evident that x, the portion of the difference that is paid by the buyers, will increase in propor- tion to their desire and their competition ; x will therefore be in the ratio compounded of B and of N, or will increase as B N. For the same reason, the other portion [—z will increase as bn. We have thus the following proportion, x: B N:: L—«r: cry ats apm na=xB N (L—s, from which
we get 2 — BENTO n ls He proceeds through twenty pages with this calculation, into which a great many more terms as well as new symbols are introduced; but our readers, we conceive, have already had enough of it.
In its own provinee, the peculiar language of algebra will never fail to gratify those who can appreciate the admirable structure of the most perfect instrument that has yet been in- vented by man. But grat injudicious and unskilful pedantry ought most severely to be censured, which diverts an instru- ment from its proper use, and attempts to remove those land- marks by which the sciences are bounded from each other. The peculiar forms of expression, which have been introduced into the modern analysis, are sanctioned by the facilities which they afford, both of perspicuous abridgement, and of prosecuting 2 train of investigation to new and remote results. But M. Ca- nard has only translated, into a language less readily understood, truths, of which the ordinary enunciation is intelligible and fa- miliar to all. We will not deny that some branches of political
440 M. Canard, Principes d’kconomie Politeque. Jan.
economy, especially those which relate to circulation, money, and the analysis of price, admit of being seeienenelee See which almost approaches to mathematical exactness.
ject may possess this precision, eens ui
mitting, the symbolic representations
not even exclude altogether the use of analogies borrowed from mathematical learning ; they afford much delight to those minds which are habituated to pass, occasionally, from the vague conclu- sions of moral induction, to the full assurance of knowledge in the stricter sciences. Both as illustrations, and as ornaments, such analogies may be introduced with the happiest effect. But the frugal and classic taste, with which Beccaria has
allusions of this nature, forms a contrast to the pedantry and —
ion with which M. Canard has overloaded his composition.
The fourth chapter treats of the circulation of and of credit. It contains a tolerably correct view of the leading pro- positions upon that subject; but nene of them are presented in a new light, or traced to any new consequences.
In the fifth chapter, which is entitled, on the causes of the in- crease and the decline of wealth, he professes to demonstrate, that the prosperity of states has a necessary limit; that industry and economy must ultimately give place to luxurious and wasteful expence ; and that nations are destined, by a law of nature, to fluctuate in a series of changes. The opinion is far from being new ; he has it, however, ina new aspect. The reverses, which are exhibited by the history of the most celebrated states, have suggested this melancholy idea, and, in so early an age of the world as the present, they still give it too much plausibility : yet, it may be doubted, if it be not more agreeable to the just rules of philosophical anticipation, to flatter ourselves with a pro- spect of unchecked improvements in opulence as in knowledge, than to gree in that mournful analogy which assimilates the political fortunes of a people to the progress of individual life, and subjects to the same law of necessary alteration, the geological surface of our planet, and the prosperity of its diver- sified inhabitants. Whichsoever of these conclusions may ulti- mately be verified, one thing at present seems probable, that a just statement of the moral and political destinies of man will involve a wide range of complicated facts, and a most compre- hensive view of the circumstances of his nature-and condition. Upon this probability alone, we should have suspected the ac- curacy of M. Canard’s reasonings, who compresses the state- ment into very. great simplicity indeed, and resolves the whole. explanation into a sort of arithmetical estimate.
‘The increase of national wealth is occasioned by the perma- nent excess of the annual produce above the annual consump- tion ; and this excess is determined by the prevalence of economy
—~—mameareeaeanoetetoae 4s eee ae oe wes Sas i.
, ft Aso ee Bee te Dm See 4st a OUelCUDl CU Oe
y surplus wealth in the shape of re is the greater temptation ‘to spend it as revenue, The augmentation of national wealth has a con-
, to discourage the spirit of accumula- tion, and to encourage the spirit of expense. The latter must.
Kf Ht tH
that by which it had previously attained to wealth and grandeur. ‘Thus, according to our author, the gradual diminution of profits and interest is at once the effect of increasing riches; and the proximate cause of that growing expenditure which swallows'up all riches : and thus nations are represented as if fated to revolve for ever in a circle. fo! Before pointing out the fallacy of this piece of reasoning, we cannot refain from expressing our surprise, that an author, who conversant with the most recent improvements of politi- pemeeeomentinse Seeuny at 3 ee ene especially as t ition not form an indi ‘part of his argument. t decrease in the interest of money and the rate of profits, which he views in se singular a light, might surely take place. in a country which confined itself to its own in- land trade, studiously avoiding the relations of foreign commerce. And there is no absurdity in believing that the balance of produce and consumption might lean either to one side or the , in a kingdom bounded,as Berkeley has , by a brazen wall of a thousand cubits. There. is no of a balance of foreign trade, paid in the precious metals, in order to realize that surplus of the annual uce, which, in a thriving country, is added to the mass of accumulated stock. The addition is made by an ac- tual distribution of this surplus among the industrious classes of the people : for the only difference between what he now deno- VOL. I. NO. 2. Ff
44 Mi Canard, Principesd’ Economie Politique. Jan.
minates accumulation, end whatepe uteletly call consumption, is, that the consumersiare different ; being, in the one case, totally
Sees wales and, sim-the otis) P a ene they “aholeneunniam ‘ of M. Canard) it-were:trney that eben eae to the farther Seedaniioti opauntiouenten ‘that a pro-
tional'weaith must ensue. “We should onty | erie a8 to hers this, that the increase’ of national wealth prod ey emcen “that . adaneantaes sa whieh the ‘a- ‘capital, productively; ‘receive no aug- meiitation® Beet punpendiols ee wealth to the ‘nation, over and above that:amount,'wonld be’ spent: and consamed as, revenue ; becagsé-there was ne teniptation!of profit to it Pt yom form of stock. | Bat that amount of capital ~ ort tained, betatise, u that ‘point; there was a derived from it. in would be no asbuadhin-aeabteras the-national capital, and no. progressive decline of wealth: » Tee annual | ‘produce and annual consumption a al lanced ; the conditidn of the people Neonat be'stat But it ‘is very far from being true, that pe » of
profits, which originates in an increased competition’ operates asia di tothe farther mar a Iteis Gin othis | ‘that the author appears to’have m4
himself To of ‘the present chapter. Com- petition nably regulates ts, as well as the other elements of price. Bat the only reason why an increased eom- tition lowers the rate of profit, is, that, in consequetice’ of ‘an ctoneedinod grdater the amount ef profits, upon the whole, ix -in- of stock draws a larger’ sum of 'p that is, the) motive to invest capital increases’ with the ase of capital. An augmentation of the stock, which is:pro- ductively invested, is followed bya fall in the rate of profit ;on- ly because the actual profits, asnow extended, admit of being , Without destroying the motive to continue that invest- ment. And this fall of the rate, instead of causing a diminution in the amount of profits, is itself only an effect of these profits having previously been inereased, and is, in fact, no more-than’a return towards their former'améuni. After'a reduction ‘of ‘the rate has taken place, it may be said that the motive to employ a certain specific sum is less than'it was. But that forms no tion ; because the reduction can only take place, when the-cir- cumstances of the country are such, that the steck of all the italists has, upon an average; received a proportionate augmen- tation. That augmentation arises out of an excess of the annus!
o_o. —— -— -
—_ wa he ae Le moe a
ob > pie ei ai ea _
1803. MCanard) Principes d’Rconomie Politique. 448
above consumption, which depends upon natural habits of industry and economy, and must, of course diffuse an increase equably among the various individual capitals, of which the na- tional capital.is composed. ‘0 The ‘present circumstances of the world, in general, or of any particular nation, do not permit us to anticipate a’ period at which the enlargement of productive capital can be supposed to attain amaztmnum. Sach is the re-action of expense and repro- duction upon each other, that in order to define that maximum in general terais, it would previously be necessary to assign the ultimate limit, both of uce-and of consumption.’ But the | weve virtue of the soil, as well ‘as the effective powers of in- ry, the numbers of the human species, as well as the multi- oe er of luxurious wants, have each of them a range of possi- extension, which, to our apprehension, must be pronounce: indefinite.
We cannot pretend to explain the contents of the sixth cha ter. It is entitled, General Point of View, and is occupied with a long saffocating parallel, between the circulation of merchan- dize and money, in opposite currents or canals, and, what is held to be iy Similar, the circulations of venous and arterial blood m ‘the vascular system. It is a simile of about twenty
, and is introduced, to the indulgence of the reader, by the wing expressions,
*On a vu ci-dessus l’espéce de similitude qu'il y a entre la cireula- tion du sang el celle du travail. Prolongeons cet apercu autant qu'il peut s'étendre, et analysons tous les traits de ressemblance qu'il ya entre ces deux espéces de circulation. I! est nécessarie auparavant d'exposer le tableau de la circulation dn sang.’ P. 107.
Aw offence of such magnitude, against all the rules’ both of taste and of scientific method, lies beyond the reach of our ani- madversion, being quite unprovided for in the criminal code of criticism. We shall therefore content ourselves with remarking that scarcély any subject has been more unfortunately exposed to injudicious analogy, than that of the circulation of money. This very title, indeed, involves a false metaphor. 1n an article of our former number,*'we pointed out ‘a singular mistake, into which on has been led, by admitting certain figurative expressions into his reasonings, with regard to paper money. Another proot occurs at t to our recollection of the folly of my why these ies, however briefly they may be stated. “Dr. , in his Wealth of ‘Nitions, calls‘ movey, ‘ the great wheel of cir- culation,” and’ paper-money, ‘a new and less expensive wheel.’ Mr. Hume says, in ‘his tical Discourses, “money is none
o Vide p. 179. Ffe
444 M. Canard, Principes d Lconomie Politique. Jan.
of the wheels of trade; it is the oid which renders the motion of the wheels more smooth and easy. j
t contains a isti 1 reasonings and illustrations, by which Dr. Smith has exposed the errors of the mercantile system. We mean to say, that it is immediately abridged from the Wealth of Nations ; though M. Canard makes no of this. It was with much that
the it important crisis, the prevalence of such views, the leadi Siieenanat Repanidilaempalamemmeteet To the fre wt tthe cigioh aaaabe title of the first part of the eig , the ti which is Taxation, he professes to resolve very clearly the question pro- by the lnstitute, to which he gives a decided negative. e endeavours to shew, that taxes diffuse themselves
may nominally be imposed ; and whether they are levied at the iy apne piacere stefan me Oo But, of this ition, he has not presented any wnende wii isfactory. He explains his argument by stating a case. rent of land, he assumes, is settled, like the price of any commodity, by the reciprocal competition of the landlord or seller, and of the farmer or buyer. If, at the moment when they are about to conclude a bargain, the state imposes a tax upon rent, their reciprocal com- petition will still operate in such a manner that this tax will be equally shared between the two. What is true of the landlord and farmer, is true of all persons in the relation of buyer and seller ; and every tax, affecting the subject of sale, will be
portioned between them, whether it be nominally i on the one or upon the other. But if this holds, with regard toa single buyer and a single seller, a little consideration will satisfy us, that it must hold equally with regard to a succession of many buyers and sellers; and whether the tax be imposed upon. the original seller, or upon the first consumer, or upov any one.of the intermediate hasers, it will, in all cases, be proportionally paid by all. Now, this argument is certainly.erroneous ;. inas- much as it proceeds the assumption, that the contract be-
tween a ietor of and his farmer is exactly of the same kind with a bargain about any vendible He con- Grint ton pind -ener ete nesicand ae which
even those writers are agreed, who are most hostile to the pro- ject of a territorial impost ; and who deny, most confidently, the ultimate incidence of taxes-upon the neat produce of land, The
1803. =M. Canard, Principes d'Economie Politique. 445
Peet eee nt mer rie rat peat we duce, however great or however small it may after the whole stock or expenses of the farmer are
yo ew mes at the usual rate. The whole effect on the part of the landlord is, that he shall draw
shuns this surplus; the whole effect of on the of the farmer is, that the landlord shall no more. what the amount of that surplus may be, neither the landlord nor the farmer, but upon the of the earth and the of nature. When a tax, therefore, is im-
already derives no more from the land than thes seplastineat' of his stock, with its necessary profits: any of the tax that he be supposed to pay wouid, in truth, form an additional advance, for which it would be necessary that he should be reim- bursed. The whole tax is a certain annual expense, a certain por- tion of capital annually advanced, the whole of which must be're- placed out of the annual reproduction, before the surplus or neat ean be set aside for the landlord. Instead of bei him and the farmer, it is wholly deducted from
plus which constitutes the rent.
We are rather i re soning, which thus proves that all taxes on land are paid by the proprietor alone, requires very little extension, in order to lead us to a more general conclusion, that all taxes whatever ultimate- ly fall on the neat surplus of the annual reproduction. The ar- SSS has not yet been stated in such a form as to leave no room fer objection ; but this proposition to us the nearest approximation to truth, that has yet been offered the subject. It forms a necessary part, as most of our must be aware, of the system maintained by the followers of Quesnai ; but, in the examination of that system by its antagonists, and even in the illustration of it by its most intelligent admirers, a line of distinction has not always been sufficiently marked be- tween the theoretical conclusion, or general fact, of the ultimate incidence of taxes, and the practical scheme of a direct territo- rial tax. For ourselves, we will confess, that while we enter- tain more than doubts with respect to the expediency of the lat- ter,we have very little hesitation as to the truth of the former. At any rate, the one is not a necessary inference from the other ; for, in proceeding to discuss the practicability of that > other principles and views of political economy must be into consideration. PEt om
, it may be more they should Eraoen front Ceeeboely mere, ewan rere tu ness of a tax is not the only — to which a wise states- {38
att
446 M. Canard, Principes d’ Kconormme Politique. Jan.
man will attend ; and because it is not quite demonstrated, tbat a circuitous tax must be less productive than a direct one. —
But although the territorial incidence of all'taxes does not 4 pear to suggest necessarily a direct impost upon land, which is great practical tenet of the economists, it 1s intimately and ne- cessarily conneeted with their great theoretical tenet, as to the source of national riches. These two positions; indeed, are in- ae mo other; or, rather, aa be said to form two
ws of the same general fact, one of which presents it indirectly.
ists between thesetwo assertions, it has sometimes struck us as a sort of presumptive evidence in favour of the eco- nomical theory, that eaclr ofthem had separately presented itself to reflecting minds, long before the French philosophers had in- corporated them together in a systematic demonstration. It may be said of all great and: permanent ‘discoveries, which have un- folded the operztions of nature, that some occasional gleams of light broke out from time to time, before the full truth was: re- vealed. The whole history of the mathematical and physical sei- ences forms a continued illustration of thivremark. Nor does it fail to be true in those branches of knowledge which ares to present a less appropriate field of discovery. in the philose- phy ofthe mind, for example, the great fact of association wasob- scurely ived by Hebbes, and even by Aristotle ; the true the- ory of t signs. was almost in possession of the schoolmen ; some ofthe French grammarians‘had nearly a hed that inte- resting fact in the history of language which Mr. Horne Tooke has the full merit of having ascertained ; and, not to multiply instan- ces too much, the two great discoveries by which Mr. Hume and Bishop Berkeley have effected such amemorable revolution in me- taphysics, the correct analysis of our ideas of cause, and the pre- cise limitation of our knowledge of external substances, may be traced, the former in the writings of Barrow and. Aquinas, the latter in the sceptical system of Democritus. The politicaleco- nomist might adduce similar instances from the history of his sci- ence. ‘That doctrine of commercial freedom, the rapid progress of which sheds so much lustre\on the enlightened practice of the present age, presented itself tothe mind of Fenelon, secluded, at a vast distance from the vulgar details.of business, in the retreats of literature and religien; by a still more remarkable coincidence, the same truth was distinctly apprehended and zealously maintain. ed by Sir Dudley North,* who had passed bis life ‘in the practical occupations of trade, at a time when the commercial system was loudly and successfully recommended to all the legislaturesof Eu-
-* We allude to a very remarkable passage in the life of Lord Kee- per Guildford, by Roger North, p. 167.
-_ _~
SSet Beers Seas & ess a 2
1803. M, Canard; Principes d'Economie Politique. 447
rope, bothiby merchants and by speculative: economists... That principle, .with regard: to the) primary and’ essential; source: of wealth, the elucidation of which,has given political economy a new form,.or raiber first given a.sirict scientific form to that: sub- ject, has-been detected in. seme obscure authors, whose names and writings are now only sought after en account of this. casual anticipation : it islikewise siated ina much more remarkable man- ner by a philosopher of antiquity, whose name once exercised a despotié authority, and whese writings have for some time sunk into unmerited neglect.* ‘The curious fact also. which suggested these reflections, that oft he ultimate incidence of all taxes upon the neat produce ofiland, was very distinctly perceived by Mr. Locke. It may be considered, we have already said, as asort of presump- tion for the truth of the economical theory, that the two propo- sitions of which it consists, and. which are intimately connected with each other, had thus separately and independently occurred to the most cultivated understandings, by which, in former times, the relations of political economy were
The most correct and regular demonstration, therefdre, of the territorial incidence of taxes, would consist in a deduction of that evidence on which the fundament ~ of Quesnai’s system exists. As the full development of analysis, however, would occupy a larger space than is consistent with the plan ofthe pre+ sent article, we shall present the subject in an indirect:form, which, within the limits to. which we are confined, may be better adapted to the majority of our readers, We intend to shew, that, in the celebrated treatise of Dr: Smith, though that authordenies the ultimate incidence of taxes upon land, the principles which he has established involve:this conclusion. ‘That; Smith did. not precisely distinguish the real import of the economical system, is now confessed, we believe, even by these who agree with him in nejecting it. We are further satisfied that he derived a much larger portion of his reasonings from) them, than he himself. per- haps recollected; that his principles on the formation and distri- bution-of; national: riches approached more nearly: to: those.of Quesnai, than he was himself. aware; and that, to. have recog- nised an entire coincidence, it was only necessary for him to have followed.out his analysis a few steps farther.
in that amusing, but not very: instructive partof the Wealth of Nations, whieh treats of taxation, it: is admitted, inthe: first place, that no; tax can fall upon the wages of Sa rc even advanced by the labourer, it must be replaced to his employer, and is therefore finally paid either mi at fitsof stock, or out of the rent ofland. lt:is farther admitted;
Rive * Wid. Arist. de-Repub, ly, 812. Ff4
f
form the admissions of Dr. Smith, to conclude, that all taxes, howevertevied, are finally incident upon the neat and are ultimately paid by the landlord either in a ion of his rent, or in an increase of the sagheostanhmannnnaee of his actual rent, he distributes among the other classes of the
community. The remainder of M. Canard’s eighth chapter is ied with a disquisition on the best form of taxation, and on the i
compose disquisition, though in. our opinion fundamentally erroneous, will be useful in suggesting to the reader several points of view, from which the theory of finance, may, with advantage, be considered. The author's conclusions, however, are all derived from that: of the equal diffusion of taxes, on which we have stated our opinion. It has conducted him to several results, which, though by no means new, are very different from the ideas in which the most judicious wriiers on finance appear at present to acquiesce : eens int ae re tone which are imposed the necessaries poor ; in whatever ‘ndiant seoteteelanaiontiinadl — y, and employments just selves in a perfect equilibrium; that until this. equilibrium is restored, every tax must be attended with the various inconveni- ences that result from an artificial derangement in the system of and exchanges ; ee eee er a aia » and every new tax pernicious. Some of these positions inconsistent with each other, and all of ——e wn, from various considerations, to be full of error. t it is unnecessary, we hope, to enter into a more formal confuta-
i tic al i m ™ P Ws tl c At d a c b dl a h 5 T c f ’ 1 a t F ‘ ’
1808. M. Canard; Principes d’ Economie Politique. 449
tion of them, than that which is implied in the remarks we have already made on the principles from which they have been de- er. tron of the Funding: System aod presents
“ c treats . a mixture of ey a mane th some very unsound maxims of policy. loans, or anticipations of the public revenue, is jetidied ty the eapédlznny of distributing un- usual advances over a succession of years, bothin orderto equalize the annual expenditure, and to secure a suppl n oc- casions of emergency. With reference to practicability of the funding system, M. Canard considers nations under several different points of view ; as territorial, and as commercial states ; and, under each of these two aspects, as in a stationary, advan- cing, or declining condition. Forthe remarks which he has brought together in this discussion, we must refer our readers to the original work; in which they will derive some instruction, and some amusement, from the geometrical precision with which he successively considers the several cases in this series of suppo- sitions. ‘The most inent and the most objectionable of his positions is from those reasonings, contained in the fifth chapter, of which we have already endeavoured to expose the fallacy. As nations, according to him, may acquire a surplus of wealth above what can possibly be employed as capital, and as it is this surplus which destroys the national spirit of accumulation, and undermines the national prosperity, the funding system, or the art of loans, presents itself as a most salutary expedient for absorbing the superfluity ; and, by consequence, for retarding the commencement of national decline. Every loan, therefore, (for M. Canard cannot refuse a metaphor), is a wholesome bleeding, which relieves the political body froma plethoric malady. And he does:not scruple to deliver it as his opinion, that if it had not been for these financial operations, by which England has accu- mulated her immeasurable debt, the superabundance of wealth would long ago have plunged her into that course of decline, from which, even in spite of her funding system, she cannot long be preserved. After the strictures which we formerly made on the principle from which these conclusions are derived, we deem it unnecessary to offer any further repetition of them. ‘I ap- pear a match to any of the ive follies to which the na- tional debt has given birth. When we consider at once M. Ca- nard’s attachment to professional forms, and his unquestionable knowledge of the principles of political economy, we may rea- sonably be surprised that these consequences, on the subject of the funding system, did not strike him asa reductioad absur-
dum of his theory, with regard to the necessary decline of nation- al wealth,
450 M. Canard, Prncipes d Economie Politique. Jan.
Pa ef ay if we leave this. work with a favourable im- pression, it is Jess from any permanent utility which we conceive it to possess, than from the specimen it affords of the talents of the nia He shows a more extensive acquaintance .with econo-
mical speculations, than has always. appeared in the books that ve recenly been brought to this country from Franee 5 though = have found it necessary, on several occasions, to out er- rors W. more accurate ceading would have enabled hi toavoid. There is also a considerable degree of ingenuity in the turn which he has given to certain discussions* ; but we do not find that his peculiar mode of considering them has conducted him. to any new results, or has enabled bim to make any addition te our stock of political truths. Some advantage, however, is gained hy. caneful and even minute examination-ef such. ; be- cause we are forced to vecur to.our first and.to,under- take a 2 ty Ea propositions in which we have formerly a ca th of this kind, we are jon Si ji been made ; and the ros 'y of our real ac uisitions is move accurately delineated. It has been,the aim of the criticism to assist such of our readers as may be disposed to examine, in this strict manner, the memoir of M, Canard,
Art. XVM. Lhe Bakertaw Lecture on the Theory of Light and Colours. By Thomas Young, M. D F. R. S. Professor ef Natural Philosophy of the Royal Institution. From Phi- losophical, ‘Transactions for 1802. Part I.
-_ this paper contains nothing which deserves the name ei- ther of experiment or discovery. and, as it is in fact desti- tute een of merit, we should have allowed it to pass itude of those articles which must always find admuittanes into the collections of a Society which is pledged to publish two or three volumes every year. The of the author, and the: title of Bakerian Lecture, which is peepenes these lucubrations, should not have saved them from place in the ignoble crowd. But we have of late observed in te py word mor wenn rediection am hypo ground ; and. we are mortified to see that the Royal ra forgetful of those improvements in science to which it owes its origin, and neglecting nen ne ete most illustrious members, is now, by the of such papers, giving the countenance of its high authority to danger-
* The doctrine of the balance of power as deduced by Vatell, from similar grounds. Vide Droit des Gens, Liv. iii. chap. 3.§ 44, & seq.
1303. Bakerian Lecture‘on Light and Colours. 451
ous relaxations in the principles. of physical logic. We wish to raise our feeble voice against innovations, that can have no other effeet than to check the progress of Science, and renew all those wild phantoms of the imagination which Bacon and Newton put to flight from her temple. We wish to recal philosophers to the strict and severe methods of investigation pointed out: by the transcendant talents of those illustrious men, and consecrated by their astonishing success; and, for this purpose, we takethe first opportunity that has been presented to us, of calling our readerg attention to this mode of philosophising, which. seems,, by the title of the r now before us, to have been honoured with more than the ordinary approbation of the Council,
The author of this paper introduced himself to the literary world, by afew desultory remarks upon a theory which he ap- peared to think new, but which had been previously exposed and refuted—the muscularity of the crystalline lens. Soon after this, he retracted his opinion ; and a year or two ago he again brought it forward. We do not know whether or not he has, once more abandoned it : but we seriously recommend to hima due reflec- tion upon. the fact in the history of his opinions, which we have just now stated. Let it teach him a becoming caution in. the publication of his theories. A discovery in mathematics, or a successful induction of facts, when once completed,, cannot be too soen given to the world. But as an hypothesis is.a work of fancy, useless in science, and fit only for the amusement of a va- cant hour; as its excellence depends upon its simplifiation and agreement with every fact that can occur; as it, requires. con- tinual polishing, touching and retouching, in order to-adapt iL to the phenomena, the inventor comes precisely under that de- scription of persons te whom the Roman satirist uttered. those memorable injunctions, ‘ Sepe vertas sty/um’—and ‘ Nonum pre- mutur in annwn,’ ‘To justify the apparent severity, of these strictures, we quote, in the author’s own words, a few specimens of his vibratory and undulatory mode of reasoning.
In the present paper, page 43, we meet with the following
sentence :
«1 am sorry to be obliged to recal here the assent which T was in- duced to give, at first sight, to alate author.’ Vide Phil. Trans. for 1800. p. 28.
And, in another paper of Dr. Young in this very volume, we meet with the following passage, page 393.
‘The colours of mixed plates.suggested to me an idea, which, it appears, leads to an explanation of the dispersion of colours by re- fraction, more simple and satisfactory than that which Ladvanced in the last Bakerian lecture.’
And again, in 395, there is another correction or modifi- eation, as our author is pleased to calli, of another pigeons fd It is difficult to argue with an author whose mind is with a medium of so fickle and vib a nature. Were we to take the trouble of refuting him, he t tell us, * My opinion is , and I have abandoned that is: but here is another for you.” We demand, if the science, which Newton once ed, is to be as changeable in its @iodes, as the world of taste, re deans, silly woman, or a pampered fop? Has yal Society de- graded its publications into. Deletinn of new and fashionable theories for the ladies who attend the Royal Institution’? Prohk pudor! Let the Professor continue to amuse his audience with an endless variety of such harmless trifles ; but, in the name of Sci- ence, let them not find admittance into that venerable repository which contains the works of Newton, and Boyle, and Cavendish, and Maskelyne and Herschell.
These remarks lead us to observe that perpetual fluctuation and change of ground is the common lot of theorists. An hypo- thesis which is assumed from a fanciful analogy, or adopted from
its a capacity of explaining certain appearances, must al- ways cittlinndke tah wane, and must be alive by a repetition of the same process of touching and retouching, of suc-
cessive accommodation and adaptation, to which it originally owed its puny and contemptible existence. But the making of an hypo- thesis is not the discovery of a truth. It is a mere sporting with the subject ; itis a sham-fight, which may amuse in the moment of idleness and relaxation, but will neither gain victories over pre- judice and error, nor extend the empire of Science. A mere is in truth destitute of all pretensions to merit of every kind, ex- cept that of a warm and misguided imagination. It demonstrates neither patience of investigation, nor rich resources of skill, nor vigorous habits of attention, nor powers of abstracting and com- et mye ccumtam rem re bene soe It is the unmanly unfrui a boyi ient imagination, or ne gr ama pF oa If, however, we condescend to amuse ourselves in this manner, we have a right to demand, that the entertainment shall at least be of the right sort—that the hypothesis shall be so consistent with itself, and so applicable to the facts, as not to require per- petual mending and dune, tree the child which we stoop to play with shall be ‘ y healthy, and not of the puny, sickly
nature’of Dr. Youug’s productions, which have scarcely stamina io subsist until their fruitful nt has furnished us with a new litter; to make way for which, he knocks on the head, or more barbarously exposes the first.
458 Beaerian Lecture on Light and Colours. Jan.
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1903. Bakerian Lecturé on Light.and Colours. 453 Our readers are well acquainted with the name of Euler.
They probably know alse how i his success.as a natural philosopher was to sustain the high which his mathematical achievements had gained to him. His optical hypothesis of vi- brations has been universally rej the moment it was
first published. But, in an evil it fell in Dr. Young's. way, some time during the year 1800 ; and, that it did not light im-s barren place, we are entitled to conclude, from the Dector hav- ing already produced no less than three huge papers upon it. The object of the one now before. us, as well as the author’s notions of philosophising, may be conveniently gathered from the follow-
i >
Mee chines of the present dissertation is not so much to propose any opinions which are absolutely new, as to refer some theories which have already advanced, to their eagrel inventors, to support them by additional evidence, and to apply them to a great number of diversified facts, which have hitherto been buried in. obscurity. Nor is it absolutely necessary, in this instance, to. produce a tingle new experiment ; for of experiments there is already an ample store, which are so much the more unexceptionable, as they must have been conducted without the least partiality for the system by which they will be explained. Yet some facts, hitherto unobserved, will be ght forward, in order to shew the perfect agreement of that system with the multifarious phenomena of nature.’
We read this passage without much emotion, unless perhaps we might be inclined to pity the misguided pursuits of an inge- nious man, who seems to have systematised into a sort of theory the method of wasting time. The following passage, however, excited somewhat of a livelier interest.
* A more extensive examination of Newton's various writings has shewn me that he was in reality the first that saggested such a theory, as I shall endeavour to maintain ; but his own opinions varied less from his theory, than is almost universally supposed: and that a va- riety of arguments have been advanced, us if to confute him, which may be found, nearly in a similar form, in his own. Works. and: this by no less a mathematician than Leonard Euler, whose system of light, as far as it is worthy of notice, was either, or might have been wholly borrowed from Newton, Hooke, Haygens, and Malebranche.’
Those who are attached, as all may be with the greatest justice, to every doctrine which is stamped with Newtonian approbation, will probably be disposed to bestow on these considerations so much the more of their attention, as they appear to coincide more nearly with Newton’s own opinions.
A little farther acquaintance, however, with the Doctor’s par per has convinced us, that he is as little serupulous in his quo- tations, 48 in his theories ; that he delights as much fo twist an
454 Bakerian Lecture ow Light and'Colours. © Jan.
authority, as to torture a fact ;) and, according to his usual-vibra- cy kanichaunpesltbe opie ich AW Get perens! gnoe Bhar ef thet eiguiication sa farther examination of those difficult and sublime speculations of a real pher, will make'the: Doctor acquainted with the nature of his theory, and induce biny to aban- cabobtases ite bela shadapodiahhetiaamee? suthoriey) Whilst ition of its being s 4 t authority appealed to by our We ‘the highest au- thority to be of no weight whatever in the court of Reason ; and we view the attempt to shelter this puny theory under the sanc- tion of great names, as a desperate effort im its defence, and a most unwarrantable appeal to popular prejudice. But nothing can be more manifest than that Dr Young grossly mistakes the opinion of Sir Isaac Newton, in order to obtain the apparent sanc- tion of ‘his authority for his theory. In what light that. modest and cautious philosopher viewed the hypothesis of an ether, we have had an opportunity of shewing in our last Number.* It is evident from his own words, which we have there quoted, that the existence of this medium is only stated by him as a vague hy- is, which deserved no credit, unless for its applicability to
a few facts. If the most elaborate theory had been detailed by Newton upon this subject, still jt would have become Dr Young to have considered, w - Newton ranked it among his propo- sitions or his queries ; whether he placed it among those things which he gave as proof, or amongst the hints which he threw oat for farther investigation. New, it will be observed, that almost ali the.quotations made by Dr. Young are from the Queries sub - joined. to the 3d Book of the Optics ; afew only are taken from is earlier in the Philosophical Transactions ; none are to be found in the Principia; and the only mention of such a thing, which we meet’ with in the Optics, is 2ecompanied with an ex- press caution against believing that this is given as thing ‘but a mere hypothesis, intended to assist the imagination of those who, as Newton observes, can conceive nothing without such
et us attend to the concluding words of the Principia, where, talking of this hypothesis, he says,‘ Neque adest sufficiens copia expertmentorum, quibus leges actionum hujus sptritus accurate, determinari et demonstrari debent.’ Lib, 3. Schol: Gen. In the same memorable passage he tells us, hypotheses non fingo ; seu.me- taphysice, seu physica, seu qualitatum Saat al tiitece
*P. 163.
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$805. Bakerian Lecture on Light and Colours. 455
in philosophia experientali, locum non habent. And in the intro- duction to the Queries a the third book of the Optics, he-tells us, that heleaves them as materials for further search to ‘others, Tt is scarcely possible to conceive a wider difference than that soon subsists between the of Newton and the orn = od Dri Young. While the former utterly rejects hypot serts that our stock of facts upon the subject of the ether is in- sufficient ;-the latter says, that we have enow of e wean ng and that we only require to have a stock of hypotheses ton proposes queries for the investigation of his successors. "Dn Young claims the inheritance, and vainly imagines that he fulfils this destination, by ringing changes on these rte oni arguing fronr them, as if they ‘were experiments or demonstrations, ‘twist- | ing-them into a partial coineidence with the ¢ imaginations of his own brain, and pompeuin? parading, what Newton left'as hints, in a series of p » Wit ir all the affectation of system. Afterall, it may be . Newton amtsed himself with hypothe - ses, ait#8o thay Dr. ride ‘Admitting that the doctor’s relax- ations ‘were the same with his predecessor’s, it must be remem- beredi that the queries of Newton were given tothe world’ at the close of the most brilliant caréer of ‘solid distovery, ‘that any mortal was‘éver permitted to run! The sperts'in which such a veteran might well Be-allowed ‘to relax his mind, are ‘mere iule- ness in-the raw who ‘has never fleshed ‘his Sword’; and theudt the world ‘gaze With interest’ évery” such oc- ciipetiets Sn: fae Sipl they would turn with disgust from the forward and idle attetnpts of the letter to obtrude Upon them his We shal add mark he absurd e ut one re upon the ity°of supposi
that the idea of an ether, minricte awh random Hy Sie Isaac New ton, has the smallest affinity with the clumsy t of Euler, and of his commentator Dr. Young. After demonstrating the pro; ties of the rays of light, considered as hard and minute bodies, in order to*explain the theory of vision: and the’ colours of thick arid thin plates, or to shew how the law of the fits discovered by induction, might be fancifully resolved into a stifl pene tin general law without any induction—he amuses himself b
how the rays of ‘light’'would act upon, and be deceh Gee ethereal, subtile medium, were the existence of such w Pe} ascertained. ‘That the concession of such an existéncé would enable us to resolve a variety of facts, apparently anomalous, into one general, and uniform, and sufficiently simple law, ‘tio one
can entertain any doubt, who has read the in which this fanciful supposit ~ is ursued by that great genius—great even in his inde pie relaxations. But the clumsy hypothesis of
Euler and De sa is, that the ether itself constitutes light ; and their object is to twist the facts into some sort of an agree ment
Bakerian Lecture on Light and Colours. Sau. sips femcenine estaba Hi this uid. From
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i
namely, to invent various experiments this subject. however, the season is not favourable for eptical observation, we recommend him to employ his winter months in reading the pia Cape mb ena hp amor tr acipia, and then to begin his experiments those which are to be found in the former of nian nT It siler thet, the making of dlo- coveriesand building of systems should appear as easy as he seems at prasent to think it, he may proceed to apply the skill which he has learned, with that caution which becomes a true " and give the results to the world with a no less of which the Newtonian writings may have afforded him the
for ha’ onl of | a | De tio rou ha’ ma on fer Inc fle qui she is ott ant Ti the dil an Ne su ate de:
Rf. 8 SeBZs .
1908. Young on Colours not hitherto described. 457
Ant. XVIIE. An Account of some Cases of the Production of | Coloursnot hitherto described. By Thomas Young, M. D. &c. From Philosophical Transactions for 1802. Part HH.
perbesommns find that Dr. Young is by no means more successful in making observations and nts, than in forming systems. ‘The new case of colours, which he affects to have discovered, has been observed a thousand times ; and he has only the merit of gi an absurd and contradictory explanation of it. ‘They are tar Clare tages Which sppek Weise a luminous body, when a hair is interposed near the eye. The Doctor says, that they arise from the interference of two tions of light, the one reflected from the fibre, the other round its ite side. How this could ever produce colour, we have not sufficient fancy to discover ; but this we know, that it is mathematically impossible for any portion of light to bend round one side of a hair, so far as to cross the shadow, and inter- fere with, or come near the light reflected from the other side. Indeed, it is absurd to talk of reflection in this case. For any re- flection would manifestly carry away the light to a very different quarter. It is equally ridiculous to talk of flexion; for how should it happen that; according to the Doctor’s own account, ( ¢ 388.), a black hair did not produce the apy ce? The tor’s singular explanation should apply to this, as well as any other hair. Infact, these images are produced by schentliar; : and, accordingly, any opaque body is incapable of forming them. The observation in page 389, we have reason to think accurate, that the fringes or images extend across the image of the hgir, dilated by indistinct vision. This is manifestly inconsistent with any idea of reflection or flexion ; it will apply to refraction only. Now, Dr. Young seems altogether to have forgot that there is sueh an operation as refraction : for he ascribes the halos in the re to inflection among the particles of water. | {tis evi- dent that the light must be refracted in passing through these ticles; nor has this ever been doubted since the days of the A coestasihechibidhow of Spalatro.
We are next presented with some observations upon what the Doctor’ calls the colours of mixed plates. These are certain fringes uced by the interposition of air or water between plates of glass: Why this should be reckoned a new Case, and
witha peculiar name, when it is only an inelegant form
of the: Newtonian experiment, we are utterly at’a loss to com-
Fenipot rears sip chanruemarchian cone his
“ generat erference;’ a he says, undulatory
system. | He tells us, page 393, t ee
ot a white; iitead of » block spet, fa edn middle ¥OL. t. NO. &, Gg
458 Young on Colours not hitherto described. Jan.
density between that of the true surrounding media were used by- reflected « He adds, that he verified this prediction in a manner. ‘he announces with no small pomp.
‘And I have,’ says he, ‘ now- the pleasure efor that I have fully verified this prediction, by interposing a drop of dayne v9 between aprism of flint glass and a lens of crown glass: the spot seen by reflected light was white, and surrounded by 2 dark ring. It is, however, necessary to use some force, in order to produce a cou- tae anion: paints; end inesainen pede Septet
same degree from perfect whiceness, as spot usually frase perfect blackness
Can any thing be more evident than that this appearance is
iy hover devertbed, of lentl.0.dnora ef Gaeaielthe Oar tics? When two optic glasses are gently pressed upen one an- other, we are told hy Newtoa that the point of contact is white, surrounded with a dark ring ; the same appearance happens, when a thin plate of water is viewed by reflected light. In such cases, a greater pressure makes the rings of colours emerge, by altering the thickness of the plate ; and a still greater degree of pressure, by rendering the plate thinner and thinner, produces blackness : Vide tics, B. il. part 1. Obs. 1. & 4.—Indeed, the first words that strike our eye, upon turning te this celebrated induction of facts, are, ‘ Next to the pellucid central spet, succeeded, &e. Obs. 4. parag. 2. That it should not be perfectly white, we may easily expect, when we consider that some of the light is trans- mitted by a thin plate, in the same manner as total blackness ig prevented by the partial reflection which takes place from the thinnest sort of plate. The two appearances are, im fact, pre- cisely the same. For the same spot which appears blackish by reflected, is found te be whitish by transmitted light, and vice. versa,
From what he calls the prismatic analysis, the Doctor explains the blue colour of the lower part of a candle flame. The fol- lowing sentence contains a singular specimen of confusion, and of vague reasoning.
* We have only,’ says he ‘ to suppose each particle of tallow to be, at
Pde din ae totem panne Sing ee en Neh cxmcicnipeeemhiing’ pore tak,
I t - t t he o a o a u tl t t fl te o c t! a M y P y c h c P F e e D
1803. Young on Colours not hitherto described. 450
a
the oxygen, whichever we to be the origin of the light given out during combustion. the ion of heat, and the union of the oxygen, precipitates the , it is obvious that those particles will be first given out, adhered with the least force: therefore the of the flame will first be violet
blue. A greater force will drive off the yellow and green also, and the flame will then assume a colour composed of a mixture of these five, violet, indigo, blue, green, and yellow. ‘Last of all, by a still heat, those particles will be which adhere the most strongly, namely, the orange and red ; and the flame will now assume a colour which is composed of a mix« ture of all the on that is to say, — in which the _
inates. ha tous to be the si ex i
rap 9 acolo ey a sats te ells of the candle flame form a particular case. We have no objection to submit to the judgment of our readers, whether Dr. Young's solution, or ours, is the most entitled to their favour ; and shall at present conclude with remarking, that our explanation will apply to the different colours of produced by different mixtures, as, the barytic salts, which tmge flame red—cupreous. salts, which give it a green-and blue colour—nitrates, which tinge it yellow and red; and also to the predominance of particular permanent tinges in the flames of certain combustible bodies. As bodies of different colours always reflect and transmit most copiously the rays that produce those colours: so, it ma: haps be found, that the general law of relative flexibility: nex ceives modifications from the particular affinities between the particles of light, and those of inflammable bodies, as the powers of gravitation and adhesion are affected by the force of elective attraction. NE ge » 2 pao pre ee bate oflight. minute parti d chemi i ight.
We cannot conclude our review of these articles, 2h entreating, for a moment, the attention of that illustrious Body, which has admitted, of late years, so many paltry and unsub- stantial into its Transactions. Great as the services-are Chae the, Masel Riceias has aeeienacian- hasan cates ble as the papers have been in every volume, (not less valuable, paige Pagan ey. tabs vag tah ig % well eam gag ernie we think on the benefits which it has conferred, with feelings of the warmest gratitude. We only wish that those. feelings should be unmingled by any ideas of regret, from the want of selection, to which we are adverting ; and that it should cease to give its countenance to such vain theories as those which we find mingled in Fie Reig, ea 2 ventacpe of important informa-
£2
460 Young on Colours not hitherto described. Jan.
tion. The Society has, indeed, been in the habit of stating, that the truth and other merits of the speculations which it publishes must rest with their respective authors ; but we are afraid this is not sufficient. The Society publishes these papers, meets for the
urpose of reading them, calls them its Transactions; and, in
act, exercises in many cases, the power of rejecting the papers which are offered. It is in vain, therefore, to disavow a responsi- bility which so many circumstances concur in fixing. The ap will always look upon the Society as immediately responsible for the papers which compose its Transactions, unless, indeed, it shall wish to be degraded into the rank of a mere mechanical con- trivance for the printing of miscellanies. We implore the Coun- cil, therefore, if they will deign to cast their eyes upon our hum- ble page, to prevent a degradation of the Institution which has so long held the first rank among scientific bodies. Let them re- fiect on the mighty name which has been transmitted to them—
* Clarum et venerabile nomen © Gentibus, et multum nostra quod proderat urbi.’
Such a name may indeed shelter them in their weakness, and make us venerate, even in the frailty of old age, an Institution illustrious for its ancient virtue: But is it impossible to ward off the encroachments of time, and to renovate, in new achieve- ments, the vigour of former years? [tis more honourable to support an illustrious character, than to appeal to it for shelter and protection.
4
\
Ant, XIX. Petri Camperi Icones Herniarum, Edite i Sam.
Thom. Semmering, Francofurtiad M enum, — Varrentrapp
é Denner. 1780. 14 Plates, Royal folio. 3l. 3s. } geet a acne Camper was one of the few anatomists who seem to have perceived distinctly the very intimate relation which subsists ‘between a minute knowledge of Anatomy, and the Pa- thology and Practice of Surgery. Of this he has given nume- rous proofs in bis valuable writings. His plates of the human petois, published in 1760, still remain the most perfect specimen of surgical anatomy which has yet been given tothe world. The reputation which this author had so justly acquired during his lifetime, by the bold, accurate, and scientific delineations of his pencil, will not suffer any injury from the appearance of this
in-commencing the present work, it seems to have been ori- ginally the intention of er, to have given the and ical treatment, as well as the anatomical history of Hernia.
His attention, however, had been diverted from that object ; for
ae ae ee ee ole ee
~~ oe.
ye we me hur i *s® ew 4&6 AX Url tllUlUwhlUCUrh ll OO
~~ -— mp -~
180s. Camperi [cones Herniarum. 461
he appears to have proceeded but a little way, even in theanato-
The only species of Hernia, delineated in these plates, is the Inguinal, or ance and vir disease, besides aeptibgt ala mper has exhibited some very curious, and, mould seem, by hens uncommon varieties. As the merit
the present work rests chiefly, if not solely, on the » ac- curacy and judgment with which the parts * berned ae Bl: nocele are represented, it becomes necessary to enumerate the eon- tents of each particular plate, and to owe out whatever appears to be useful or new in this graphical history of the disease.
Pates I. & Il. exhibit a view of the abdomen of an ape (cyno- cephalus) laid open, to shew the entrance of the sperniatic vessels into the u and external aperture of the abdominal ring.
Plate III. A view of the origin of the cremaster muscles in the small animal, and of their distribution on the outside of the tunica vaginalis, with the cavity of the tunica vaginalis laid open, to show the manner in which this membrane is reflected over the testes.
Toa student of human anatomy, those three plates are very uninteresting. They increase greatly the expense, while they add little, if any thing, fo the value of the present work. Plates of this kind ‘would more properly have had a place in a work on comparative anatomy ; and we regret much, that, instead of these plates, Camper had not given similar views of the parts concern- ed in Bubonocele in the human subject ; as such a representation would have formed a more natural, and, at the same time, much more useful introduction to the morbid appearances delineated in the present work. The passage of the spermatic vessels through the abdominal ring, and their relative connection with the surroundi parts, have never been well delineated ; and plates, exhibiting the distribution and attachments of the different parts of the tendon of the external oblique muscle, still remain a desideratum of no small importance in the anatomy and pathology of femoral hernia. Camper, indeed, has given a view, somewhat of the kind we re-
ire, in his Demonstrationes Pathologice, plate |. fig. 1. of the Petois but it seems to have been his intention, in that plate, to
nt the course of the blood-vessels and nerves in the cavity of the Peévis, rather than to trace the spermatic vessels along their course out of the abdomen, or to mark the more common outlets of the intestines or omentum in Hernia.
Plate IV. exhibits a view ofa Hernia of the right side, pron cated with Hydrocele. The skin of the groin and scrotum is di sected off, and turned aside, to show the dilatation of the abdo- tinal ring, and the membrane into which the cremaster muscle is inserted, A portion of this — is removed at the lowet
g3
402 Camperi Icones Herniarum, dan.
part, to bring the hernial sac into view, where it rests on the tu- nica vaginalis.
Plate V. fig. |. The same. Hernia asin Plate IV. with the aA ge pty to show the mouth of the hernial sac, and i adel cafe ogee eM DY
i ecisely the situation of these vessels wit to mouth of the sac, that Camper has given to this plate no com- mon degree of value. The epigastric vessels are seen passing along
> posterior part to the internal angle of the sac, where they are reflected upwards, to be distributed on the Rectus muscle.— This view of the neck of the sac would have pleased us still more, had it been entirely from within, and had it exhibited the eo surrounding the neck of the sac in their connection and re-
ive situation. Fig. 2. of this plate, avery useful little diagram, to show still more distinctly the course of the epigastric arteries behind the mouth of the Hernial sac, and at the same time be- hind the spermatic vessels. This situation, Camper remarks, occurred in all the subjects he dissected.
Plates VI and VII. ‘The Parietes of the abdomen, cut and turned downwards on the right side, so as to bring into view the course of the epigastric vessels on the Rectus muscle, and the en- trance of the spermatic vessels into the upper and internal aper- ture of the abdominal ring. On the left side, a serotal hernia is shown, with the integuments removed, so as to bring the sac in- to view, over which, at the upper part, the external pudical ar- tery is seen passing. ‘The distribution of the aponeurotic fibres, covering the tendon of the external oblique muscle, is extremely well represented in this plate, together with the share which these fibres have in forming the upper and outer part of the external
ure of the ring, and m producing the stricture in cases of 8 ed hernia.
Plate VIII. fig. 1. The same Hernia as in the former plate, but with the parts more dissected. In the subject from which this plate is taken, a variety occurs in the situation of the sper- matic vessels, with regard to the Hernial sac. While the vas de- ferens runs, as usual, at the back and inner part of the sac, the spermatic vessels are seen separated from this vessel, and running on the fore and outer part of the sac. Fig. 2..a similar view, froma different subject; in which the situation of the spermatic vessels and vas deferens is reversed ; the vas deferens, in this case, lying before, and the spermatic wre behind the hernial sac. From t eeepc & these two figures, Camper very justly infers, th incision in operating for Bubonocele should
not he. : dome to. fan Hatton, ot Hee sae i this istribution of vessels occurs, the spermatica, or vas deferens, or hoth, may be wounded by the knife. |
1903. Camperi I¢ones Herniarum. 40s
Plate 1X. contains two figures, exhibiting a view of the distri- bution of the cremaster muscles upon the cellular membrane co- vering a Hernia! sac of the right side. ‘The formation on the stricture at the ring, from the decussation of the fibres of the + coma ea: becomes still more evident from this, than from any
the former plates.
Plates X. and XI. The oblique and transversalis muscles, with their tendons, removed from the fore of the abdomen, to show that the Herriial sac is a process of the peritoneum. The epigastric artery and vein are pigs Stecfrel ast me tad the neck of the sac to its internal angle. Camper remarks, that he had often ghserved the peritoneum thickened and contracted in the part forming the neck of the sac; so that the strangulation seemed, in those cases, to have been occasioned, partly by the stricture in the ring, and partly also by that in the neck of the sac. It is obvious, the inspection of the first figure in plate XL. that the stricture at the ring may be removed by cutting in one of three directions ; namely, by carrying the knife , in a direction parallel to the linea alba, inclining towatds the
of the idium, or inwards to the dinea alba; and it is
vious, from the inspection of the same figure, that if the sur- géon, iii dilating the ring, carries his incision towards the linea alba, that the epigastric vessels would be in hazard of being cut ; but that, if the incision be directed upwards, or outwards, these vessels are, by their local situation, secure from danger.
Plate X11. exhibits a view of the same Hernia with the two former plates ; bat, in this view, the sac is raised and turned out- watds, fo show that the spermatic vessels lie before the epigas- tric, at the back part of the neck of the sac.
Plate XII. contains two fi ; the first, re nting a Hernia of the right side, complicated with Sarcocele, in which the blood-vessels of the groin, and the origin and course of the external pudicals, are more fully traced than in mi Ag plate. The are séen coming off about two inches below the
igastrics ; the artery from the trunk of the femoral artery, and the veld uth the na. Camper imagined, that the of these vessels had often been mistaken by surgeons for a wound of the epigastric artery. Fig. 2. of this plate exhibits a sketch of the relative situafion of the crural vessels, and of the external
Wacoal. replete tie Charbel ell on appv
tch, without that no , a8
he himsélf deknowledgen, of niaking a careful dwection of a
case Of feitioral Hernia, ‘The situation of the crural ring below
the a the tendon of the external é iascle, and on
the ‘insi ee ae en represented in g4
404 Camperi Icones Herniarum. Jan. this di - We were much to observe exhibited in this gl a peculiarity Leper of some of the tendinous fibres of the inferior pillar, which we imagined had
the notice of former anatomists. Camper has represent- ed fibres as crossing the back part of the external aperture of the ring. In the subjects we have examined, this appearance is more evident in females than in males; and the-peculiarity of this structure serves obviously to strengthen the parietes of the abdomen, and to prevent the occurrence of Hernia at; this
z
Camper has thrown into the 10th and 11th plates four small figures which illustrate some collateral points relative to. Conge- nial Hernia and Hydrocele of the tunica vaginalis ; but as these figures appeared, during his lifetime, in an y which he pub- lished on the causes of rupture in new-born children, it be- comes unnecessary to give any particular account of them in this
Plate XIV. contains figures of different kinds of pads for Her- niary bandages. There are none of the contrivances in this place either very new or very useful. It seems, however, but just to add, that the proper construction of herniary bandages, and the mode of applying them, so as to produce the greatest possible effect in preventing the descent of Hernia, were points upon which Camper had at different times bestowed much time, re- flection, and labour.
From the very full enumeration which we have given of the contents of the Icones Herniarum, it must be apparent'to every one acquainted with the history of Bubonocele, that the most im- portant practical conclusion, or rule of conduct, with regard to
rating in this disease, to which these plates lead, relates to the direction in which the surgeon is to make his incision in dilating the abdominal ring. The uncertainty which has prevailed among operators with regard to the relative situation of the Epigastric artery, and the neck of the Hernial sac in Bubonocele, and the very contradictory directions which have been given, down to the
nt day, by authors and by ic teachers, as to the course in which the incision ought to be made, in order toavoid this artery, render these posthumous plates of extremely va-
luable and interesting. In his Demonstrationes Pathologica, pub- lished in 1760, Camper had indeed described, in the most accu- rate manner, the situation of these vessels with regard to the neck of the sac; and this discovery has been claimed, so. late as 1799; by an author, under a borrowed name, whom it »would be wae to suppose ignorant of what Camper had written ; but still the point was not made so obvious to-our senses, as it. isin the present plates.
1803. Camperi Icanes Hernmiarum. 405
sinfche ammbnalnteps yvdeeng tthe recy.he pintsolag i inconsistency, by, ing, in that. . ibility of wounding the Epigastric’ artery in dividing the neck of the sac, though some surgeons of great eminence. had been cauclid enough to acknowledge, that this very fatal accident had actually happened in their practice. . How. the possibility of wounding the Epigastric artery should have been questioned by Camper in his Demonstrationes Pathologica, seems very unaccountable ; since it is not only apparent,from the inspection of the. plates, and which, it may be remarked, were engraved betore the ication of that.work, that. this artery comes round from the part to, the inner side of the neck of the sac ; but Camper has even given a plate, to show, that if the incision-be directed towards the /inea alba, the epigastric artery must of necessity be divided It is also not a little singular, that, in this mistake, Cam-
r should have been copied by the author to whom we former- Fy alluded ; who seems not to have been satisfied with having taken from him the merit of a more valuable observation.
Of the division of the Epigastric artery in the operation for Bubonocele, there are, as has been already remarked, several well authenticated instances upon record; and it may be presumed, that, for one instance which has been acknow , many have occurred that have been altogether overlooked, if not carefully concealed, Rougemont, the learned translator into French of Richter’s very valuable treatise on Hernia, very justly remarks upon this subject, that the cases of divided Epigastric artery, of which we have an account, occurred te those surgeons who, in dilating the neck of the sac, were in the practice of directing their incision towards the /:nea alba,
_ Before concluding our account of Camper’s most valuable work, we think it right to observe, that though the relative situa- tion of the Hernial sac, and of the Epigastric artery, be, in gene- ral, such as is re ted in his plates, yet cases sometimes oc- cur, in which this situation is reversed, and in which the Epigas- tric artery is placed on the outside, instead of the inside of the neck of the sac. This situation which has been repeatedly noticed, occurs in a variety of Bubonocele, that has not, so far as we know, been accurately described by any author ; a variety, in which the intestine included in its Hernial sac, does not enter into the upper _ and internal aperture, nor pass.along the canal. nee at ring, but.where it appears to come directly out of the ' at the lower and external aperture of the ring... This case, which has been much oftener observed than rly understood, oc- curs; it is true, but seldom. Camper,in the-essay to which we formerly alluded, mentions, that in opening, in.1759, the body of a person who had been murdered, he perceived a Hernia, whi
460 Camperi Icones Herniarum. Jan
oat of the abdomen, between the upper and internal aper- ture of the ring and the linea alba, but which seemed to him to i noatdaatuns aitemrandiainiose me 2 mere tear reeporetion ef Tgulel Heri; which the seen a jin w the Epigastric artery was situated on ihe outside of the neck of the sac. And Erlich, in his Beobachtungen, also mentions, that he had seen a similar preparation in the possession of Mr. Cline. This situation of the artery had so often occurred to Dessault, that he actually gives marks by which to ascertain its existence. Itis almost superfluous to remark, that, in this variety of Bubonocele, the Epigastric artery must necessarily be divided, when the in- cision is directed towards the spine of the idiwm. If we are not mistaken in our conjecture, it was this deviation from the usual course of nature,.and the casual division of this artery, which has occasioned all area ras gece of opin- ion, which has hitherto prevailed among » writers, with regard to the real situation of the Epigastric artery in Bubo- nocele ; and of course, with regard to the direction in which the incision should be made in dilating the abdominal ring.
Art. xX. Gulielmi Heberden, Commentarii de Morborum
. 8vo.. Payne. London. 1802,
8 = hema Soest 0) eatin ee preetael wreaeay that the authority of prescription is openly
suvevees Ba, and tha i nquiry is carriéd on without any regard’ to great names, or established Seam That the practice of medicine should partake of this spirit of investigation, can- pote any one acquainted with its history ; and it ought ‘regretted by any, since the abilities displayed, and the Gocoverlee whlel Wed wins; sour gespiex-eicaieteel tentoe ar ment. Physicians no poe od sre themselves in fruitless at- tempts to reconcile the inco of systematics and secta- rists, but each one is content to read'with his own eyes in the book of Nature, which lies open before'him. ‘It seems ‘tow be- to be understood, what indeed reason and example might
sceteage ena riia Gist of donblcnd ehcepetethas Ws ry small. Hence, we have had innumerable theories of dis- canta, of the abt’ of reisedie, of digenticu, secretion, aad utthe
1808, Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseases. 467
functions in the body, without their authors being acquainted
with the Cg nonprcers series i epi. he ne
tance, w - = Sekteahasentncaasl “e
pe fa regpegain ny we evan inv a
ex, e
al had the common chratedstcs being unfounded oun
opposition to theoretical speculations, much has been said
on the value of experience ; but this term has been frequently The name of experience is commoaly given to that
know which is acquired by frequent -intuition of the same object. If this See. pineee in the practice of medicine were well founded, it only be necessary to visit all the hospitals in Europe, to become a good practitioner ; and an old nurse would be preferable to an intelligent physician. But a distinction has properly ben mde between what x called rue and foe expe
The former supposes, for its attainment, an historical ee object, a capacity for observation, and a genius to draw proper conclusions ; whilst the latter consists. only in following a blind routine, without reason, and without reflection : in this respect, the enlightened physician is distinguished from the ignorant pretender ; and the rational empiric from the mis- chief-working, contemptible quack. Partial as we are to facts
present fashionable doctrine of inculcating an exclusive attention to. them, ul ewer we bone Sip setpoetiogeen ate regular induction timate theory and the practice SIC, pom ayo poppe mala yagomiar rid gl mechanical art ; pre parnrenome Salored sa tate
These reflections were suggested by the of the work now before us, in which Smet and author has given us many valuable and useful observations, both general and Ley 7a vs om utility of these meager top - creased, y more systematically , cxecutign.of thet, compechepeive. end. regular derigns which the author mentions in his preface. It is much to be regretted, that this part of the work has been left unfinished : But observations recorded with such accuracy and precision, as those now under our consideration, are 80 rare and important, that we are hi indebted to those who collect them, and can only lament that the number of these collectors is so small.
‘ Nec minitoum meruere decus, vestigia Greca Ausi deserere, et celebrare domestica facta.’
;
4068 Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseases.’ Sau
These commentaries are published ‘in’ Latin and in’ English, each apparently written by the original author. In sbedecte copy, some account is given of Dr. Heberden’s life, and also a dedication ; both of which are omitted in the English copy, and this omission is — by a preface. -'
Most of Dr. Hi en's remarks on the history of diseases are such as are to be found in the writings of our best practical authors ; but they are no where more plainly stated, or mere free from useless and irrelative matter. The remedies which he men- tions are few ; and he bestows very slight commendations upon any. His practice, for the most , seems to have been feeble and inert, or what is usually called palliative. His confidence in the powers of medicine was limited, whilst he relied much on the
ers of nature. When we consider the situation in which Dr. Heberden was placed, and notice the class of patients among whom he practised, perhaps we may be able to account for the origin of his opinions. For the diseases among the higher orders of society are less frequent and less violent, than amidst the lower ranks ; and, in the former, a dietetic plan of treatment will often effect what must be attempted, and is often produced, by ee of medicine among the latter. As the’ plan of this work is so general, it is impossible to abridge it, or give a con- nected view of all its contents. A few specimens of the author’s style and reasoning will therefore be selected, aud some remarks offered upon those points, where there is room left for a differ- ence of sentiment.
In the first article Dr. Heberden has given some remarks on ‘ Diet,’ and the regimen to be attended to in most diseases. His observations appear judicious and valuable, and form a striking contrast to the absurd rules and hurtful restrictions formerly laid down by medical writers, who seem to have endeavoured to pervert Nature by their misapplied attention to those circum- stances, which they characterised by the perverted appellation of Non-naturals.
Under the title of ‘ Ratio Medendi, we find some observa- tions on the employment of Peruvian bark in inflammatory dis- eases, which, being somewhat peculiar, deserve to be quoted.
‘ The Peruvian bark has been more objected to than any other of those medicines in cases of considerable inflammation, or where a free expectoration is of importance ; for it is supposed to have, beyond any dhe deanh medicine, such a strong bracing quality, as to tighten the fibres still more, which were already too much upon the stretch in an inflammation; and its astringency has been. judged to be the likely means of checking or putting a'stopto expectoration. ‘All this appeared much more plausible when taught in the schools of physic, than pro-
1808. Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseases. 469
bable, when I attended to fact and experience. The unquestionable safety and acknowledged use of the bark in the worst stage of an in- flammation, when it is tending to mortification, affords a sufficient answer to the first of these objections ; and I have several times seen it given in the confluent small-pox, pienenteaninings inany dagres, the expectoration.’ P. 11. I
_ This opinion is contrary to the general sentiments and experi- ence of our best practitioners, whose concurrent testimony on the bad-effects of bark in inflammatory complaints has led them to relinquish altogether its exhibition in such cases. To say that bark is serviceable in the worst stage of inflammation when it is tending to mortification, is no argument in favour of its utility in the earlier stages of inflammatory diseases. Such are the
and endless variations in the human body, that a remed remedy which is dangerous one day, may be the most proper to be administered the next. If we adopted our author’s mode of reasoning, we might condemn bleeding, as hurtful in pneumonia, because it hastens the death of the patient, when employed in the advanced s of the disease ; and we might condemn the employment of water in fevers, because it is injurious when employed daliee the cold fit. The controversy respecting the identity of Scarlatina and Cynanche Maligna, seems now nearly - The most general opinion is, that these two states are only modifications of the same disease ; and our author’s testimony must be considered as no small corroboration of the truth of that idea.
‘ From the foregoing descriptien of the scarlet fever and malignant sore-throat, it seems highly probable that t they are both names of the same distemper, with some ittle variety in a few of the symptoms : and this opinion is confirmed by our finding that they are both epi- demical at the same time. Even in the same family, where a number of children have been ill, either together, or immediately after one another, some have had the distinguishing yap ge of the scarlet fever, and others of the malignant sore-throat.’ P. 28.
On the subject of ‘ Gout,’ there are many remarks, particu larly interesting and important. Dr, Heberden had numerous °P rtunities of marking the varieties of this singular affection ;
he has o some new views which well deserve atten- tion, The following observations, though inculcating a doctrine which is somewhat unpopular, a just and well-founded, and will ve aeeee fepartaat by. all unprejudiced physicians and patien
‘ Strong wines, and in no small quantity, have the reputation of being hight beneficial to gouty persons: which notion, they have wervF ily and generally received, not so much perhaps from a rea- sonable persuasion of its truth, as from a desire.that,it should be true, beeause they love wine. Let them consider that a free use of
470 Heberden omthe History ‘and Cure of Diseases. Jan. vinous and spiritous liquors peculiarly burts the stomach and organs of digestion, and that gout is bred and fostered by those who indulge themselves in drinking much wine ; while the poorer sort of mankind, who can get very little stronger than water to drink, have better ap-~ subject to arthritic complaints. The most perfect cures, of which I have been a witness, have been effected by a total abstinence from spirits and wine and flesh; which,in two or. three instances, have restored the belpless and. miserable patients, from a state worve. death, to active aud. comfortable life; but I have seen too few ex- amples of the success of this method, to be confident or satistied of its general utility. P. 47.
In the method of cure, our author thinks that gout ought to be treated more as an inflammatory complaint; that evacuations may sometimes be employed with advantage ; and that it is un- aeceaPnhy to cover the limbs so closely with flannel as is usually
one
Of the medicinal virtues of the ‘ Bath and Bristol. waters,’ Dr. Heberden speaks with an academical kind of faith ; he con- siders the former as useful in some cases of Dyspepsia, &c.;, but thinks their powers have been much over-rated. In treating of ‘ Calculus Vesica,’ some rules are given for forming a diagnosi between a stone in the bladder and a diseased state of the pros- trate gland. ‘The best criterion between these two maladies, our author thinks, is the effect which a schirrus of the prostrate has upon the general health. ‘Those afflicted with it have many constitutional symptoms, such as, loss of 0 want of tite, sim 9g .; whereas stone patients have’ t re- missions of pain, and show no signs of their general health be- ing affected when the yey is off. A tic mark is mentioned, p.'$91, that, in a diseased prostrate, the pain pre- cedes, and in the stone it follows the making water, In Page 86, our author remarks, that the pain song rom, a stone, de-
nds more upon its figure and position, upon its size.
rom what we te pM ed, we Bena ede k, that the of ‘pain felt s not so much or sition 2 eget’ “ latter of which wil probaly met cases be the same), but upon some peculiarity in the constitu of the patient, and upon the chemical ition of the calcu- lus itself. In some patients who have su excessive pain, the stone has been , on operating, to be very small and smooth ; while in others, who have not suffered so much uneasi- ness, the stone has been and uneven, or several stones have been extracted. The ca/cult, consisting of earthy es, are observed to occasion Jess pain than others ; and it is which are generally very large, and have been known to remain many years in the bladder, producing little or no uneasiness. Dr. He-
1808. Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseases: 47)
berden does not seem to have been acquainted with the late suc- cessful chemical investigations into the om amr be pne of urinary coleuli. His commentaries were probably d before the discoveries of Dr. Wollaston, Vanquelin, and Four- croy, were made public. Although no spevific his been disco- vered against this formidable ; yet our lately acquired knowledge’ will be sufficient to guard ws against the deceptions of ignorant quacks, and to point out at least a'rational mode of attempting ‘the ‘cure. It is obvious, that the solvent power of alkalies is not tobe depended on in all cases, but ean only be successfl when the stone consists of wric acid, while the acids are to be employed to dissolve the earthy tes. It may be necessary, to seny the bubibteidel ott acids and alka- lies in different stages of the same ¢omplaint, since the several ingredients which these substances can dissolve, enter into the
ae = rms the same stone.
e cannot allow ourselves to pass over the article ‘Carbunele,’ without offering a few remarks ; because we conceive that the nature and treatment of this disease is not well understood ; and because our author's opinion seems liable to several objections.
* Carbuncle is a large, red tumour, appearing in the back, with a spongy base, loaded with a purulent liquor, out plen- tifully at any cracks or openings which it finds. Soon after the tu- eae oe ee
t inqui ° th; ef " a e © that it has many marks of being the cause or effect of some extra- ordinary deraegement of the health. Old persons, and shattered constitutions, are the usual subjects of this malady... ... .As much bark should be given as the patient ean take without loathing, and. as auch of an opiate as the inquietude and want of sleep may require.»
That carbuncle is either the cause or the effect of some de- rangement in the system, ne one can deny, because it is always accompanied by some such derangement; but the question is, whether we are to consider the constitutional symptome.as.pro- ducing, or produced by, the local affection? and ‘this de- termination our method of treatment must In most cases, the disease is certainly, in its early stage, entirely local, and to be treated i cosine tes tatemirae tae The practice of patients swallow large quantities of and wine, from the idea that carbunclé is alwaysa t dis-
ease, has often proved prejudicial, especially in full and habits, in which this compli frequently occurs ; sill thocp- posite plan of treatment has been: aftended with complete suc- cess, But perhaps it is impossible, on. this, as wellas.upon any eT ne Sey One er eee e to all cases,
472 Heberdenon.the History and Cure of Diseases. Jan-
Dr. Heberden considers ‘ Diabetes’ as t which sel- dom occurs; but the melancholy experience of late years has shown, that it is. by no, means nerve al rane Any rte His remarks refer chiefly to diabetes insepidus;, and his conjec- ture appears well-founded, that the peculiar state of the urine is only a symptom of some other distemper ; because this state may be absent or entirely removed, and yet the other sym con- tinue, and the patient falls a victim to the disease, in the method of cure, there is little novelty of remark: we find no mention made of animal diet; which has lately been so triumphantly re- commended. The success of this plan, however, bas not been bw egy by peabw if experi ; and a rational theory of
iabetes, and a sus of curing it, must still be reckon- ed among the desiderata in medicine.
‘ Evysipelas,’ our, author considers, as partaking more’ of malignant than inflammatory nature, and. as not requiring eva- cuation. His opinion, no doubt, was formed by Jong, and ex- tensive practice; but, it must. be received with some limitation. The history of erysipe/as affords a’ striking instance of the con- tradictory opinions of medical writers, occasioned .by. their ob- servations being confined to the places where they practise. Diseases are influenced and_modi by a variety of circum- stances; by local situation, by the, habits and condition of pa- tients, &c.; which ought always to be considered'whea judging of the proper mode of cure.) » Thus; to give an example in the present instance. Erystpe/as, in Edinburgh, is almost constantly
attended with strong in symptoms, and ‘is cured by bleeding, purging, and the antiphlogistic remedies; whilst, in London, the fever which attends it; is of the low ‘nature,
and requires the most’ powerful tonics and ‘stimulants to’ prevent the accession of gangrene. |.
In treating of the method of cure in fevers, particular stress is laid upon the advantages of blisters.
* Avheadach is a very distressing symptom in the beginning of fe- vers ; for which a blister between the shoulders is aw almost certain specific! In the inflamed sore-throat, pleurisies, and perippeumonies, blisters are likewise of great use in abating (perhaps by diverting) the inflammation; aod in all stages of low fevers, where they act as cor- dials, avd. stimulate the powers of life to exert themselves, and to shake off the languor by which they are oppressed,’ _P. 176.
With respect to the’ useof bark, our author seems to have formed his opinion many years ago, when the minds of practi- tioners were strongly prejudiced in favour of the febrifage quali- ties of this valuable medicine ; but which have since diminished. The free admission of cool air is strongly recommended ; but no notice: s taken of the employing cold water, as an external or in-
i903. Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseases: 473
ternal lt was left to the and judicious expe- rience of mo tien to, adduce the affusi of call meter in
\ -|| Aremedy which may, fairly be put in com- petition with all the febrifuge compounds in our pharmacopceias ; and requires to be more generally employed to have its va~ lue and importance more highly appreciated.
Under the article’ Jéeus,’ are some remarks on hernia, which we apprehend, are no less false in theory, than unfounded in fact, and appear deduced from very limited observation. We shall quote our,author’s words:—~ |.)
‘ When the inflammatory colic isjoined with a rupture, it is right to reduce the rupture, if it cun -be easily dove; but it is doubtful whether such pains chould be taken am it; for it is uncertain, that the rupture is the seat or the cause of the inflammation. An ileus is often seen without a rupture, and a rupture without an ileus; and, consequently, the symptoms may go off, though the rupture continue ; just as, without this, they often come on: and the symptoms have con- tinued and ended in death, notwithstanding the reduction of the rup- ture. Be thejcase as itwill, all violent megns to reduce'the bernia will be more likely to aggravate, than to relieve the disease. We know that a hernia dees not necessarily hinder the operation of purges ; and if their effect be-but copious, the patient may be secure of his recovery. The operation of dilating the ring with a knife, and by that means freeing the gut fromthe stricture-by which it is supposed to be strangled, is, as faras I’ have observed, very rarely, if ever, ad- visable, as well upom-other accounts, as for all the reasons which have been just mentioned,’ P, 273.
This, opinion is not merely .a matter of speculation, as it leads to important, practical conclusions ; and the adoption of it may prevent recourse being had to those means of relief, so necessary in a disease, where assistance by art. is so much and so often re- quired. Can one-tead the cases recorded by Poit, by Arnaud, and by Richter,,and say that the greatest attention ought not to be paid to the reduction of hernia; in the cases of ileus with which it exists? Strangulation of some part of the intestines is one of the most general causes of inflammation of the bowels, and ought always to be suspected, as, from a species of false de- licacy, it is often concealed. ‘To the reduction of this, all our efforts should be assiduously and sirenuously directed. The ope- ration by the knife is not so hazardous or painful as supposed ; and the only reason to be assigned for the ill success which so frequently attends it is, that it is usually had recourse to only when all other means, after repeated trials, have failed, and too often, probably, when symptoms have arisen, which the reduc- tion of the intestine is not able to remove.
There are some valuable facts stated under the article ‘ Phthisis Pulmonum,’ which well deserve the attention of those who are
VOL. I. NO. @, Hh
474 Heberden on the History and Cure of Diseasés. - Jan.
daily publishing their premature triumphs, of having discovered ths greacd eronimmas Dor -eurhig Sodaeptionn: ood be wel,
if those authors more attention to the marks of ge ee Te of removing pr om those remedies which con arte ee. ot Oo r
Saeapiotbsirguedegenstiaheecpdsas\ Bate we trust, have already been quoted, str pie ests soe con- tain a rich fund of curious and valuable facts, and must be con- sidered as a very acceptable to every’ and ‘every stu- dent of practical yh 5 however, this
article (already protracted to'a’great le: ; we mitist observe, that some traces of a phraseology et ley ema aber, a eapidg> High . fs ae which the impro are, Te our knowledge might have supposed to have ston following passage, which forms the author’s | conclusion, appears so singular, {hat it deserves,
int pig ha esi but the slow one of experience, and has yet made no il vances by the help of reason? nor will it probably make any, ait Pro. videure thiok fit to bless mankind, by sending into the world some superior genius, capable of contemplating the animated world with the sagacity shewn by Newton in the inanimate; and-of d that great principle of life, upon which its existence depends, and by which all its functions are governed and directed’ P. 483,
If no progress can be made in the art of healing, till another Newton arises to proclaim that great principle of life, and deter-
mine its laws, our expectations of improvement must surely be
ery s. The discovery of Newton was not the discovery obndaiines but the generalization of a particular fact; and the term gravity is yed to ‘express that ‘law ‘by “which the planets are regu nd bodies fail to the ground, in the same manner'as the word 4fe or vitality is employed as a general ex-
for the phenomena observed in certain bodies which we
call organized. ‘The laws which regulate these bodies are'equally fixed, and some of them equally well known as those of the mo- tions of the solar system: andthe causes of the ¢hanges which take place in the one, are not more inexplicable than the motions observed in the other. The questions concerning vitality bear the same-relation to the study of physiology, and the practice of medicine, as the metaphysical discussions concerning the materi- ality,or immateriality of the soul, to the phenomena of mind; and as speculations have’ been wisely abandoned in the latter case, we may readily relinquish them in the former, and confine oursélves to the humbler and mare useful province of investigat- ing particular phenomena.
1008. § Belshamis mee she Mind, &e, 45
; wilson tte Seb) t Hay AnroXXI. Elements of the Bhilo of the Mind, ‘and: Moral. P. By Thomas » Ome lange pers. J > cas ah pawoils od vem, trsessm
an) fp
‘Obed to thin work ia ned tovenmtain/ the shibetience “mn fet pi cing the author meget to. bis mn some most interesting subjects: which can nfion of the -huihan mind,’ Lt is, however, froma
the prafece only, that we receive this information ;: far the most which can, ‘the! human: mind, -aré af-
facial testo with the same: mediocrit y and prenen
seat interests of man, A compen ui ike Alt of Scan neg tea iareons pa
igation.of tenth, than .the ledge that froth to toe drove bu intdidet,
aspiring student; w otc, and ye €: en warmed “p new prospects, ne Can, lee ss PY ering. sperm
othe compton nx est mem np Py the
=
476 Belsitam’s Philosophy of the Mind, &. Jan.
velty of the experiments. But, in the mind, there are few expe- riments. which can have the charm of novelty even to the most unacquainted. student; and hence whatever. of or- nament may be allowed, and even be \in dissertations that are addressed to the practised inquirer, the ardour of interest, excited by any ‘elements of the phy of mind,’ must ‘de - gendichinfyile the skill of the writer, im connecting the known phenomena with the objects of our babitual emotion, and thus rendering even our gentlest feelings of taste or of social negard auxiliary to the. of the severest science:
« The work: of Mr. Belsham may be. roan. el tet for three great doctrines, eSpeclintiots, Deore fe and the ‘systemnof morals. ©)! ' i
“The author flatters tise tin he ‘has’ sisi esac fe for the doctrines of Necessity; and Materialism, in a furm so obvious and succinct; and that he has suggested such answers to the p jections, as, if they fail to convince, will at least abate the edu agnorance and prejudice against these les, wf Wey were ‘favourable to virtue, and subversive of religion.’ P. 4.
As we’ cannot therefore’ examiné miuutely the separate doc- trines of a general compilation, our our ‘ittention shall be pg di- reeted to that which th ‘authot professes professes to prietis ghee si of re Mehnt and’ pied would have giveti
ality, had the object béen obtained. |
e ae ‘that it tra tis ‘no unfavourable omen ‘6 of hi i lidates ness of the compiler, to find that in adopting the eet ir n t m, he had involved it in all the w
A a theory. Pia existence of v 14 i sod un is so t thetical, and even
ition to” ab at ge as Arn of the nervous nd ankigh Na would ap ated so mg dl eae it a itted, that we did not’ ex
Aiea 0 , from the nature of his fk, must have aide ath dome degree of attention; the
‘chief’ systems of Drte} as ais i dg Td 1 of the doctiine itself, however, though’
faith’ be ct unshaken, it rm not our int Wis tts’ mior eee ish ‘hid we uk Wo beau y Sige am has one short 4 that festive Wr Woe ft is the motto 0 th title- me arn a ae Le ap ie oe a r it'ean'dd no ha Itis id undétiiable “= ey Pakistan oie virtue *p. S1@°T9 ts this , instead of being ‘un has always
“00 caress ete endows werete seante, ese
1808. Belsham’s Philosophy-of the. Mind, Sex 477
the most questionable of postulates. In the declamation to, or the poetry of Akenside, we admit it with littlescruple, because we do not read ai gary serene 6 Soe chance to contain; but we always feel more than scepticism, we are assailed by it in a treatise of pure philosophy > nor-can.we account for the almost universal assent it has received, from any other circumstance,than the profession and habits of the first teach- ers of morals in our schools, and of the greater number of their rape PC It was og of religion, it rou pa im of philosophy ; , even as a religious maxim, it a very inconsistent part of the optimism in which it was. combined. The Deity wills happiness ; he loves truth: truth therefore must be productive of good. Such is the reasoning of the.optimist, But he forgets, that, in his system, error too must haye been de- ial, because error has been; and that the employment of , for the production of good, cannot be more unworthy of the Divine Being, than the acknow ment of ra- pine and murder for the same purpose. re is, no- thing in the abstract consideration of truth and Deity, which jus- tifies the adoption of such a maxim ; and as little init jontified by our practical experience. In the small events of that, familiar and hourly intercourse, which forms almost the whole,of human life, how much is happiness increased by the general adoption of a system of concerted and limited deceit ! for it is either in that actual falsehood, which must, as falsehood, be productive of evil, or in the suppression of that truth, which, as truth, must. have been productive of good, that the chief happiness of civilized manners consists ; and he from whose doctrine it flows, that.we are to be in no case h rites, would, in mere manners, reduce us to a degree of barbarism, beyond that of the rudest savage. In the greater events of life, how often might the advantage of er- roneous belief be felt! If, for example, it were a superstition of every mind, that the murderer, immediately on the perpetration of his guilt, must himself expire by sympathy, a new motive would be added to the side of virtue ; and the only circumstance, to be regretted would be, not that the falsehood would produce effect, since that effect could be only serviceable, but that the ood effect would not be of long duration, as it would be ed for ever by the rashness of the first daring experimenter. visitation of the murderer by the nightly ghost, which exists in, the superstition of so many countries, and which forms a great part of that complex and unanalyzed horror, with which the crime con- finues to be considered, after gee of the superstition itself ; 3
478 Belstian'’ Phildsophy of the Mimdy&ti Jum.
has ceased, has probably been of more service to mankind than the truths of all the sermons that have been preached on the cor- inthe Decalogue. it is unfortunate, that, this ial awe, un horrors have been connect- ed; for the place continues to be , as well as the per- petit a rl spec , a ehen fooipa: abe But fonmies ssnbatabel dipeasanicle, te - Bat i could exist, and be modified, at the will of an enlightened legi tor, 80 as to be deprived of its terrors to the innocent, and turned vholly against the guilty, we know no principle of our nature on which it would be se much for the interest of mankind to . It would be a species of prohibitive religion, more e, at the moment of beginring crime, than religion itself ; its pensilties would be more conceivable and immediate. —Innumer- able cases may be imagined, in which other errors of belief would he of moral advantage ; and we may therefore assume, as estab- lished and undeniadie, that there is nothing in the nature of truth which makes it necessarily ; that, in the greater number of instances, truth is be al; but that, of the whole number of truths and falsehoods, a certain number are productive of good, and others of evil. To which number any particular truth or falsehood belongs, must be shewn, in the usual way, by reasonings of direct experience or analogy 3 and hence, in a question of uft- tity, the demonstration of mere logical truth cannot justly ad- * duced as superseding the necessity of other inquiries. Even though the contrary of that postulate, which Mr. Belsham has assumed, could not have been shewn from other cases, it would not therefore have been applicable, without proof, to the great ions which he discusses; for these questions comprehend all the truths that are of most importance in human life, which are thus the very truths from which the justness of the assumed prin - ciple is most fully to be demonstrated or denied.
To conformity, then, with the preceding reasoning, the doc- trines of materialism, necessity, and the selfish obligation to vir- tue, may he true, and the general belief of these doctrines be yet of important detriment to the interests of our race.
The effect of the belief of materialism is undoubtedly, as far as it operates, to weaken our confidence in a state of future being. When the whole material flame is evidently disorganized, the thinking being is 10 the perception of the materialist annihilated ; and, by the frequent view of this te annihilation, the idea of annihilation is 80 closely connected that of mind, that the belief of the immortality of the soul requires, in the mate- rialist, as great an effort of faith, as would be necessary in the immaterialist, to the belief of its possible annihilation. We are told, indeed, that to say, ‘ that immateriality necessarily implies
| pinion be, ; Belsham terms it, a + [tis enough for us, that it i fancy of every as Sim boooes ea eertess siraplicky of the evanent Tarts. rg Conant, Descews any © & ye. oapeaer ag eee ne aes its incor- ity ; but. that belief iy coon bi
passes Loh and hence, as he has no , in this respect, to be overcome, ge immortality is more recei-
state has influence, prejudicial to the cause of virtue.
But there is another view of this doctrine, in which its in- Auence, though more secret and refined, is per of equal ef- fect. It is not by ts, delivered with the force of authority or of reason, that 1 character is. chiefly formed. . It is by a route 56 sanetians, chant i Soul epee ee Ee NS - ful when combined, which give a general oraieealneidans of sentiment, while they seem to act more upon our taste than on our morals. A taste for the fine ping phy th ouee Virtue, have thus been considered by some philosophers as modes of the same internal sense ; and though the direct connexion is too strong ly urged, we must allow, at least, the force of the analogy. The habits of polished life, and the elegance of a cultivated under-
ing, where they are not counteracted by other circumstances, are, in like manner, favourable to benevolence ; not by informing us of new duties, but by acting through our taste, and softening rather than instructing us. It is thus, when moral sentiments have been delivered in all the sublimity of poetry, we feel their influence remain, for a time, beyond the conviction of mere Jogic- al reason ; as if the dignity and majesty of the verse had trans- fused themselves, with their whole power, into the truth and persuasion of the maxims it delivered. .Whatever, therefore, gives ideas of al elevation, though it may not directly sug- gest any motives, is favourable to virtue ; whatever gives sentiments more abject, though its practical influence may not be immediate, is favourable to vice : and Mr, Belsham will sure- ly allow, that there is more sublimity in the conception of mind, _as raised by its own principle of immortality above the changes of material being, than in. the belief, that the most heroic virtue we admire is. but a certain aeeregn tion of particles, which one
4
480 Belshani's Philosophy of the Mind, &c. Jam
other particle, by the new affinities it introduces, may wholly
, and which must rot in the grave, with the other parts of the withered or ulcerated body. The contemplation of a putrefying soul does not make the living man, who is to be the object of our sympathies of regard and veneration, a more interes- ting spectacle. We may still feel compassion for his miseries, as we fee! it for those of the lowest animal that suffers ; we ma even be capable of much of the esteem, and of many of the sacri- fices of friendship: but it will have less of that generous devotion, the spirit of which requires to be nourished by higher thoughts. Mr go will perhaps say, that the difference we have ima- gined to poetry, rather than to philosophy. - He will tell us with truth, that the actual misery relieved, Tan con- ferred, are precisely the same on either hypothesis. oF ent has the same effect as philosophy, when it is the poetry of every heart : and in the whole scale of life, when other circumstances are the same, we know that our sympathies are raised or depres- sed, according to the sentiments which have been associated with the object : to these, in their relation to man, materialism adds no sublimity ; and its influence, therefore, as far as it acts through our feelings, is detrimental to virtue.
The unfavourable influence of the doctrine of necessity is still more evident. Mr Belsham indeed affirms, that it has beneficial consequences ; that it leads us to be cautious of ~—— ourselves to situations of temptation, as if the Necessarian, to ever past repentance is an-increase of power, and who relies on his cal- ctlations of greater good, would nof be more confident of escap- ing, than he who believes that an accidental temptation, in oppo- sition even to his long established views of the greater advantage of virtue, may seduce his will to too easy obedience. He af- firms, that it leads us to lay a greater stress on the formation of moral habits ;—as if it did not Jead us rather to acquiesce in that degtee of virtue which has, in one instance, prevailed, from the full conviction that it must ever after prevail. “fle tells us, that ‘it supplies the most powerful motives to virtue, by exhibiting the inseparable connexion between natural and moral good and evil ;—as if a headach did not follow the nocturnal debauch of the drunkard; as readily on one hypothesis, as on the other. It is beneficial also, he contends, as ‘ being inseparably connected with optimism, and teaching us to see God in every thing, and every thing in God ;'—-as if optimism were not itself ‘most fatal to morality. ‘There needs no cautious dread of fature action, where the event, whatever it be, must be the best of ible events : and hence, instead of producing that ‘ self-anmhilation or complete and habitual conformity of the will of man to the will of God, which is stated as another consequence of the be-
1803. _ Bélsham’s Philosophy of the Mind) &. 481 exsness as
fief of this doctrine, it must produce a complete carelessness to igh brag will of God, by convincing us, that if is impos- ible to disobey, by any caprice or apparent that secret Sty fhe expreadiga 6 Which "woud Wi herelteW We'tay ‘to the e we ‘if we may $e taywod is Capone an impossibility, the greater disobedience. The guilt which we abhor as destructive of happiness, is, in this tem, as productfre of it, as the most heroic virtue ; and a Borin anda Catling ar instruments as beneficial as a ‘Titus or a Trajan. ‘To see God in all, is to see him in the workings of every bad passion, in the te assassination, and the p yy : and our dev and gratitude owe much to him, who, even though he should violate a few forms of reasoning, is successful in placing to our view the will of man, between the crime which we detest, and the Creator whom we adore. But the doctrine is not merely without beneficial consequences. In equalizing the virtues and vices of all men, as parts of one immense machine, it leaves no virtuous emotion unimpaired. The bread which nourishes the mendicant becomes as much an object of his gratitude, as the benefactor who bestowed it ; and the oppressor of an empire is to be looked on, with no other loathings, than the sword or the bowstring, which has ministered to his will. This very indifference is by Mr. Belsham consider- ed as an advantage, because ‘ it conciliates good-will’ even to the most detestable of our race.
‘ By teaching us to look up to God as the prime agent, and the proper cause of every thing that happens, and to regard men as no- = more than instruments which he employs for aeempring his good pleasure, it tends to suppress all. resentment, malice, re- venge.’ p. 310.
If, indeed, it tended to suppress that resentment only, which, in injuries to ourselves, exceeds too often the slightness of the offence, its influence would be beneficial. But to suppress all resentment, is, in education at least, to suppress virtue itself. There is a virtuous wrath ; we could almost say, a virtuous malice and ; which, we trust, will ever be excited by the tale of successful oppression : for though they may spring indeed with- out philosophy, they grow and blossom into all the virtuous reso- lutions of maturer character. If we must not feel resentment to man, because ‘God is the prime agent,’ there is as little reason, in gratitude, or esteem. When every emotion, then, of the infant mind has been checked by a syllogism as it arose ; . when it has been taught, with complete precision of A
that every one is irresistibly impelled to what he does, that merit and demerit are either words without meaning, or applica-
that the actual existence of penne much importance, as beng i only source of the power of motives, and, consequently, of all moral education. But truth, and the belief of truth, are different ; and it is of much more importance, that men should not be. vicious, than that they should, in every instance, reason with exact consistency.
In saying of the system of ethics which Mr. Belsham recom- mends, that it is,in the highest degree, ‘ unfavourable to virtue,’ we do not think, that we are joining ‘ in the clamour of i rance and prejudice.’ To virtue, eke in the sense in which hé uses the term; it is not unfavourable ; because, in that sense, as far as motives are concerned, it is impossible for any one not to be perfectly virtuous. But of the more generous morality, to which we have been accustomed to look with reverence, his sys- tem is destructive. The relations of virtue to others are, ac- cording to him, accidentul. It is valuable, and indeed exists, only in relation to the agent ; for the happiness of others is pot ne- cessarily our own; and ‘the only valuable end of existence is
iness, Virtue, then, he defines, ‘ the tendency of an action, or affection, habit or character, to the ultimate hap- piness af the agent.’ -There is an ambiguity iw the word ui- tamate, which Mr. Belsham might easily have avoided, as, in con-
individuals, apd. no.one is entitled te substitute -his own judgment to that ef the agent, every one must be allowed, by the Necessarian atleast, to be perfeetly virtuous, because ever one, at the moment of volition, constantly prefers that whi
1803. nent eaamtiamnndl 488
pr yaetees cami wg
par appeared to him less desirable. He may indeed. be
Sace al hits (8 api pte. mes el is always. moved by
pacar A ea a and, even if the choice were
ry- Such a choice would, according to the definition, be ac- tual vice; and it is only.in such imagined impossibilities, that vice canbe found If then, he alone be vicious, who prefers a less good, the distinction which Mr. Belsham has attempted to aoe nogatory, and guilt is a just object of moral approba-
or this strict sense, the selfish system must be unfavourable to virtue ; because it is, in truth, a general license to vice. But we will forget the inconsistency, and allow that, where the ~~
of the agent is the sole ee
yet be a distinction of actions, as morally ~_ How Sock. however, must our better aly. right a wrong that reference to self, which ought continually to be made! ir, ptrsg kon ye the essence of virtue, it is the duty of every indi to have that happiness constantly in view ; and he is least virtuous, as to motive, who forgets it most. It is by Fogler Soy hn a cautious ee mg in every situa- tion of public feeling, generosity, ism, and all the de- votians of benevolence, are tobe fostered into habit We blame the system of those calculators of the ge , who prohibit the indulgence of any sentiment of affection eine have com- pared it, as to its result, with every other feeling. But even these, thongh they deprive us of man men pleasures, still leave us some- thing, beyond ourselves, to w our hearts may turn. If we blame, then, as diminishing our moral sympathy, those estimates, in which our own happiness is sacrificed to that of others, with an extravagance of generesity, what shall we say of the moral in- fluence of a system, in which self is the sole standard ; which cal- culates with equal caution, but which in its calculation, days out of account, as things of mo essential moment, the happiness and the misery of every other being; and allows us to relieve the most pressing want of him who has wasted his fortune or bis health in our service, only when we have found, that, by the ca- aual connection of , his misery cannot continue a moment longer, without some to ourselves. The world seUfish has, we “know, two very different meanings, in the philosophic and the vulgar acceptatien. But we fear, that the state of mind which
484 Belsham’s Philosophy of the Mind, &. Sai in the one case it denotes, will, in many instances, very spéedily
, when the other has become the standard of our moral re-
our examination of the moral of these doctrines, as asserted by Mr. Belsham, it is not our to turn against him his own undeniable principle; and to say, that, because their in- fluence is perni , they are necessarily false. But we still say, that, on the supposition of their truth, their tendency is not'there- beneficial. We love truth much, but we love virtue more ; and there is no degree of know , which would not, in our opinion, be too dearly purchased, if, to obtain it, we were to sa- crifice all the purest pleasures, and best affections, of the uncor-
—— heart. Scotch philosophy, as it is termed by Mr. Belsham, is treated with very little favour. He disdains to make use of its , and is content, in preference, to step boldly into any dif- fica . Thus, after sat the doubt as tothe Sahenases of ex- t things, he says, ‘ ‘The Scotch phi hy again refers us to instinetive conviction, a doctrine ody catty exploded.’ What then is the more convincing argument, which he opposes to Berkeley? He allows, the hypothesis to be possib/e.
« But, if it be admitted,’ he continues, ‘we have to evidence of the existence of any beings in the universe, but the Deity and ourselves. All that we see, er perceive by the senses, andevery person with whom we converse, are mere enfia rationis, baving no real existence: and, for the loss of these, itis a poor compensation, that we may infer from the benevolence of God, that there are in the universe other solitary indi- viduals like ourselves, subject to the same illusive impressions.
‘ The existence of anexternal world isnot often made the subject of inquiry, and cannot therefore be called the proper object of belief or disbelief. To those who speculate upon the subject, the supposition of the real existence of external objects commonly appears more plea- sing in itself, and therefore more agreeable to divine benevolence, than to suppose that we are subjected to a tual illusion ; and no case has ever occurred which can lay a foundation for doubting the truth of this conclusion. Pp. 131. 132.
The chief part of this objection to Berkeley is the mere state- ment of consequences, which Berkeley himself had drawn, and which are, in truth, essential to the theory ; and of the rest, we scarcely can 4 engpen ourselves, that Mr Belsham seriously poses it, as the ground of our belief in an external world. Did man believe in that world, only after he had found out, that a society of substances would be more pleasing, than the existence of mere entia rationis, and therefore more suitable to the benevo- lence of Deity? Did the idea of an all perfect Creator our first idea of an external crextion? Is a metaphysical truth to be compared from tables of profit and loss? Does the poor man
3
1903. Belsham’s Philosophy of the Mind, &«. 485
believe himself rich and healthy, because poverty and sickness are =i sera he precio of winner { uction virtue umat, Gaaieol believed in an external ¥ 3 Mi Bi felt ‘the force of the ra tion he’ ae afterwards ; and we’ fear; that, when he meson ms Bid ove belie, he must trace it to at’ very instinctive eérvic- tion, which it is his boast that he has himself éxploded! "Poway of ati opinion, that, because it ‘has not often been of inquiry, it is not a object ane f, ith te whites meaning, or expresses S ‘more strongly that fait Scotch’ hers contend.’ To Po ic hho neces- sary; butto Mr. Belshamit is sufficient that i has not often been made ~ His argument, from the circumstance’ that no ‘ed an turbid prov homey mg isa truly ‘hap- instance of a question assumed The real succession of our ideas Eat affected by the controversies of philosophers. Unless there- fore; we have previously believed inan external world, nocasetan occur to disprove it ; and, if we have previously believedin it, the same cases which seem'to the ideale to: justify’! hie faith, meus seem to ub to justify our own. ” weno In the general execution of the work, there are many tr that hastiness of compilation, by which vary in force, according to the author last read. ‘OF this a sttik- .ing example occurs, in the System of Ethics before:examined ; in which, though virtue be the willing of our own and self- interest its sole obligation, it is afterwards ‘tothe advo- cates of benevolence, * that self-annibilation is essential to, perfect yo and that even ‘ that most refined self-interest; by n> ym € ‘practise virtue and piety with a view to ultimate reward, is abieaistdiit with the perfection of virtue:’ so that! we céasé’to have any virtue the moment. we feel its ob/i2 ation: and are then most virtuous, when the very essence of virtue is wholly disre- garded or despi For this want of cortectnéss and of intétest, we may, a8 ‘critics, blame the work; but we confess that we do not regret it. We. know what fascination it is in the power of to give to errors the most dangerous; and it is there- fore'better, when such evils are to' be shed abroad, at er should not come from the hand of a master.
boas +alad
iY: dei una iinet raat ie aaree
if the subject
Whaeit a necessary te talk of fla Scene reit is necessary to ial respect to ages » and the delight which it affords to its objects, this ‘plain idea is illustrated by the crops of violets* which grow on the Alps, at the side of mountains of ice, and perfume them, with their ambrosia. Now, every person will beready to acknoy , that filial respect and duty must be the greatest, consolation of old age, but it is not so easily discovered, that glaciers derive any advantage from violets growing in their neighbour. oA
few such similies, though not in the best taste, might, be. tol ted. But a constant succession of illustrations,..of ene sortor other is infinitely more tiresome than the most plain and homely . Madame Necker, however, is still more productive in examples than in similies. She, somebow or other, acquired an immense stock of Greek and Roman names, and thought
* Page 43,
1908. Mad. Necker, Reflerions sur de Divorce. 497
po sor muster’ them all up on the occasion. =v tocol te is not wet obras alluded to. Phe'conlevet Helen is
ae :
ht ’ i rots
tetas sc i fsa ou spe ite ubjec “tapated of, Such.am EY pA gente wn of these to whom it is addressed, can neither um
great pr
seal tele sd i A ep A tik de see enumeration of Greek and, Latin. names on a subject of this kind. ‘Though a great many ¢ crecearacinbemenioienerey om
some of them, however, Ral greene eras ere
conjusnl Seliy of te anclepts. , Madame fom ber that, in — Gesiap wirvalen Allene Raker
customs of that country. itn tn eteaee this conclusion is rather curious. She observes that the Greek
poets have the fatat of domestic mappa consequences (quarvele‘to
Fhe midst five ly
*And if divorce has’ a directly mentioned in: tiiet ancien fables: itis, without doubt, B UES was ait pecithtelt iporchchog laws Or ¢astoms. - For the fautts pe tehanters ti severely thein, and the bond’ of m ‘appear sb sacred, that we mest, atm they were indi ; and that this a hs
with Jesus Christ, that divirce and siihiety
reeks had placed beets of female manners Rie the secu- rity of'a vague and undetinable tertor, prodaced by the awful connex- ign of crime and punishment. Heleu is unfaithful, and Troy is in ashes. betrays her hasband,and soon afterwards she nésassinates him. Orestes kills bis mother, to avenge the death of his father; and is delivered up to the Furies... Let us here observe, that. an infal-
lible way of ascertaining perfectly the opinions and manners of a na- tion, is to judge by theassociation 0 ‘ideas. By displaying the unhappy Greeks increase the horror which they wish to inspire
4388 Meta diecien Rehr an nen Jan.
towards women. Guilt appears more heinous, from. the dread ric megs pen Nena ie Se ERED the excess of desolation.’ ‘
scdih empntepapiontiaiaranpietinianetttty successful on this occasion. me are cer lege de tee
events, related in the Greek adultery or incest, are et being mention thal mo divorces were ispea ionaeer, unfortunately for
ed.
her argument, that, me ph af Greoee, divorce appears to have been ed In Crete, any person might dismiss his wife, Obs Yes aiOUT Bailie 0d Cony caltanee® At Athens, divorce was sanctioned by the chief magistrate, under water Miter upon very trifling grounds. And in Sparta, the Lacedemonians appear to have considered
as rather laudable. “Madame Necker must at least have read through a French translation of Plutarch ; and, if she did, she must have seen the'life of Pericles, that a divorce took place between him and his wife, who was his near relation, by mutual consent,
upon whieh he ‘eat moral ph And as for the purity of Gre-
cian morals, the great Socrates is said to have cctadabalaten tg pil Ale with the use of his wife Xan- ; and, notwi the very refractory témper which
lady is said to have possessed; she is believed to have been obedient to her husband, at least in that instance. Although our authoress appears to have been rather better ac- with Roman history and manners, she is not very for- tunate in her remarks. She observes—
* Can we believe that Cornelia or Veturia would have formed new engagements —I do not say during the life of their first husbands (for that supposition alone would outrage their memory)— but, even after their devth, would they have driven from their penates the noble and cherished shades which they conpnnaly neve tap Se-eaenetes to theix spurl Would Coriolanus qual yielded uate po Veturia, if he not been brought up by in the sanctuary conjugal love, in the of the mares of his father And could Rome have filled the universe with the noise of ber exploits, without the influ- ence of filial respect? Such are the important consequences of the sancti oo be marriage. What dangerous consequences must arise to the children, from the separation of the authors of their existence! What destructive discord must not the strange combinations attend-
ing divorce produce upon their opening understandings! P. 43,
We are not to suppose, tha! the idea of divorce was unknown in the time of Veturia, as Dionysius of Falcons
~
* Archbishop Potter's Antiquitjes, vol. ii. p. 296.
1808. Mad. Necker, Reflexions sur /e Divorce. 489
has h made by herself, in which she. hr rm poh made bea hich she men, Jumain that he was no longer to be her husband, and wished her
historian, expresses particular gratitude not leaving his mother, which she must have done, if she had follow- ed his advice. This is altogether inconsistent with the idea of divorce having been unusual at that period. Rome is not the best instance for proving that filial respect or duty is inconsistent with separation of the parents. Plutarch tells us, in his comparison of Numaand ,+ that according to the institutions of the ayers wager psa fet dere ight ei over his wife to any who wishe family, or lend her out for a certain time. On the other pa yr a Na yan oy A istence marriage, any to participate in her favours. Plutarch adds, that these ecechachentvunce gave invitations tohandsome men, thought. likely to improve the breed. Honest appears at a loss which of the two legisiatogs most ; and observes, that the only difference be- ok cetees el caleco-end noleeion Ww exci Tomon Invention sbansd a somacpt sheore, impo-
w agreement, and confessed the y of
F
nut
if | : :
f i: f hi i
E
z F
Marcia,t in imitation of the customs of the old Ro- full account of the transaction is given by Plutarch, of Cato.| Hortensius, in order to cement the inti- which already subsisted between him and
, in the first place, to have the use of his daughter Porcia, who was already married to Bibulus. Cato, considering
Paee ue
* Dion. Halic. L. 18. ¢. 41. Vol. it. p. 1602. Edit, Reiske. + Vol. i. p. 305.
t Strabo, Vol. i. p. 505. Amst. 1707.
“ft Vol. iv. p. 408.
VOL, 1. NO, 2 Li
490 Mad. Necker, Reflexwus.sur le Divorces dams
era ekaeen 2 Ne redeem : : : = Horten~ It also appears, that among other modes of acquiring wives, a use was recognised by the custems of Rome, as, in this way, a matron, who only meant to be a:wife for a certain time, might be acquired by her ‘ husband, it was provided by the laws of the Twelve Tables, that unless there was an interruption of three nights, a year’s matrimonial connexion would constitute prescription.* From another frag- ment of the Twelve ‘Tables, it is proved, that even so-early a& the time of _ Decimvirs, ee wate > A divorce os permitted. it was only necessary for eit parties.to a messenger to the other, desirmg them to manage their own concerns ; and this constituted a divorce.+ Facts, suchas these, i Rr EL Am cys rn ty of manners among, the ancient Romans. They may aot been so dissolut pay ei aera the time of Augustus : but although, in these ages, they do net te have been much influenced by personal charms, neither deli cacy nor morality was much regarded mm their matrimonial ar- rangements. adame Necker, however, after mentioning the bad effects that divorce would produce in France, above any other country, observes—
* These observations on Protestant countries would equally suit the different epochs of the Roman Republic. It is, however, useless to apply them : for it was not divorce that was permitted at Rome, but only repudiation. In ages approaching to the state of nature, the rights of the sexes were not equal. The empire, of course, was es- tablished ; and a law establishing reciprocal divorce would have been considered as.madness.’ p. 86.
A few lines afterwards, Madame Necker observes, that
—divorce, among the Romans, was a puuishment, and not a matter of agreement. They avenged themselves upon their guilty wives, in two ways equally dreaded—by real death, or by re tion ; which was a kind of death, both in its civil effects, and in public opinion. Thus, women were subjected, at the same time, both to the punish-
* Ut qu mulier, cum juris esset, annum uvem apud verum matri- monii causa fuisset, ea mulier ni trinoctium usurpatum esset pro usu- eapta haberetur: xxi. Rosin. Antiq. Rom. p, 596. de leg. Duod. Tab.—Rosinus states, on the authority of Aulus Gellius, that the word ‘matren, which has so respectable a sound to modern ears, was originally applied to wives of that description.
+ Ut si é conjugibus alter alteri nwacium witteret, eumque res suas habere juberet, divortium esset,
1808. Mad. Necker, Reflerions sur le Divorce. 491
ment of death, in which view they were considered as slaves, and to the suffering of shame, or rather disgrace, which could only be felt by those who were free ; and this combination peculiar in social order. The Roman ladies, who were to so severe
among which is.now adopted? The one was at once a law of slavery and modesty ; the other a law of liberty and audacity. At Rome, divoree was the guardian of decency; in France, it will be the corrupter of decency : and if repudiation had been introduced among us, as it was among the Romans, women would always be the victims, The onl object of affection would be charms, which so soon pass away ; rs f amidst the depravity of our manners, the first trait of old age would have been the signal for separation. ‘The duration of marriages would have been limited to the spring-time of life; and the faded rose would be cruelly separated from its prop, and delivered up to all the sterms of life. Notwithstanding, however, the partiality of the law, which only gave men the freedom of divorce, this form will be less injurious to the purity of manners, which, in unison with nature, afford women an opportunity ef exercising one additional virtue.’ The knowledge which Madame Necker here displays of Ro- man customs, is not very profound. She does not appearevet to have understood what they meant by repudiation,* and, if she did, it is perfectly clear, from the law of the Twelve Tables, already referred to, that both sexes had the power of dissolving the marriage, even at that period of the Roman commonwealth. The eulogiums, therefore, which some very respectable historians have passed upon the purity and sanctity of the ancient Ro- man marriages, must be received, subject to many limitations. A great mistake, into which they appear to have fallen, has al- ready been ymca out by Montesquiu;+ and it cannot be sup- posed, that divorces by mutual consent were unknown, when in their very limited code of laws, there was one which allowed it to either party. There is, however, no reason to suppose that
. ium, in its appropriate meaning, applied te the case of sponsalia ; divortium, to marriage. The words of form were diffe- rent from that circumstance. Vide Heinec. Autiq, Rom. vol. i. p. 312. Rosin. Antiq. p. 458. ;
+ Esprit des Loix, L. 16. c. 16. That profound and acute
. writer explains the reason why Carvilius Ruga, divorcing his wife at the desire of the Censors, on account of sterility, although he loved her himself, might make him odious to his countrymen, who dread- ed such interference; but it cannot be believed that that was the first instance of divorce among » Romans.
i2
was of some value. husband, after consulting his friends might put his wife te death, if he chose, for an act of drankenness ; and if he was tired of her, he ae ny ters td his friends, by making her over to him. Where a
Madune Necker hed employ ed the shonaieanaiana sess, in delivering her sentiments without all that oar ing, her work would have been much better calculated wet mote the cause, which she seems to have espoused, from the most amiable and virtuous motives.
After the observations we have already made, it is hardly necessary to give a minute analysis of the arguments used by Madame Necker. She considers the question in four points of view: 1. The individual happiness of married persens in their youth: 2. The bad effects of divorce with regard to children : 3.. The effect of divorce upon manners: and. dastly, the com- fort and consolation which old age derives from the married state. All those objects of marriage are defeated, according te our author, by the law permitting divorces. She views the re-
of the species as a very secondary object in mar- riage : and that the primary object is the union of affections, sentiments, and interest, ety which ought to take place; and which marriage, according to Scripture, was instituted to promote. It is rather singular, that Milton, arguing in favour of the lib- erty of divorce, rests his argument on precisely the same foun- dation as Madame Necker opposing it.—‘ For although Ged, in ‘ the first ordaining of marriage, taught us to what end he did it ‘in the words ex ly implying the apt and cheerful conversa- ‘tion of man with woman, to comfort and refresh him-of the evil ‘and solitary life, not mentioning the purpose of generation til! ‘ afterwards, as being but a secondary end in dignity, though not “in negessity ; yet, now, if any two be but once handed in the ‘ church, and have tasted in any sort the nuptial bed, let them “find themselves never so mistaken in their dispositions through ‘any error, concealment, or misadventure that through their dif-
18038. Mad. Necker, Reflevions sur le Divorce. 498
* ferent tempers, thoughts, and constitutions, can neither be * to one-another a remedy against loneliness, nor live in any union * or contentment all their dayes, yet they shall,so they be but found * sui weapon’d to the least possibility of sensual enjoyment, * be , Spight of ante; , to fadge together, and combine as ‘ they may to their unspeakable wearisomeness, and despair of all * sociable delight in the ordinance which God establisht to that ‘very end.’* Milton’s great object is to shew, that, agcording both to the Mosaic code and the Christian dispensation, divorce was permitted for other causes besides adultery, particularly ‘in- * disposition, unfitness, and contrariety of mind.’ The motive which urged him to compose these treatises is well known. With all their paradoxes, they abound in eloquent passages ; but neither these, nor the great name of their author, have preserved them from almost totaloblivion. Even at the time they were publish- ed, they do not to have made any great i ion upon his countrymen. Legislature, however rash i
will venture to make such a change o1 the laws of a country, un less some preparation has been made for it in the customs and. manners of the le in France. Long before the Revolution, the marri persons of a certain rank were little better than nominal. is fact is acknowledged by Madame Necker. The mere formal dissolution of marriages, which, in point of fact; no longer existed, is not perhaps to be much regretted. But thisis no vindication of the law permitting divorce. [ts influence might not be material, either on marriages which were supported by the firm bond of mutual affection, or on those already dissolved the prefligacy of the husband, or the infidelity of the wife.
laws have little effect on either extremes ; but, in every nation, there is a large class of persons who are neither determined: in vice, nor resolute in virtue. A sudden oe on the laws of a country, a career to their wavering dispositions, and is likely i ane en the worst effects. Milton appears to have been sensible, that, in his time, the opposition he had chiefly to. dread, was that arising from the influence of habit and custom. After entreating Parliament to adopt, without delay, the reformation he proposes,+ ‘lest some other people, more devout and wise “than we, bereave us this offer’d immortal glory, or wonted ‘ prerogative, of being the first assertors in every great vindica- ‘tion, he says, ‘ For me, as far as ar pe leads me, I have ‘already my greatest gain, assurance, inward. satisfaction to “have done in this nothing unworthy of an honest life, and ‘ studies well employ’d. With what event, among the wise and
i icmmmalll * Milton's Works, vol. i.p..280. = + Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, lis
494 Mad. Necker, Refletions sur le Divorce.
Jan ‘ti epdeeeeliing handful of men, I am secure. But how oe the drove of custom and prejudice this will be relisht by ‘ such whose capacity since their youth run ahead into the easy ‘creek. of a system or a medulla, sails there at will under the ‘ blown physiognomy of their unlabour’d audiments; for them, * what their taste will be, I have also surety sufficient, from the ‘ entire league that hath been ever between formal ignorance and ‘ grave obstinacy.’* With whatever contempt even Milton may an custom, in matters of this kind, it must ever be i as the sovereign authority. The relation which laws bear to the customs and manners of a nation, is the real security for their endurance. Where there is this double security, the rashest innovators will hesitate. But where,as in France, es- tablishments of every kind have been long undermined, by changes in manners and customs, to which they were not the first shock destroys the crazy superstructure, and, in the general ruin, the morality of the country is destroyed along with the fantastic decorations which formerly concealed its imperfec- tions, without affording it any real support. The arguments on which this question must turn, have long ago been brought for- ward by Hume, Essay !9, Part |; and Madame Necker does not appear to have made any addition to them.
We have already pointed out the most striking defects in this work, which are of a nature that we should be sorry to see imi- tated. We have no doubt, that if Madame Necker had resisted her fondness for learned names, her love of similies, and the ad- miration she appears to have felt for Rousseau’s writings, to which she frequently refers, she would have been a very pleasing writer. Almost every page reminds us of these defects ; and the repu- tation of the author makes it more necessary to point them out. In the last part of the work there are some pleasing passages on the consolation which conjugal affection and happiness afford to old age. Another part of it contains an address to Madame Custine, which would be entitled to the praise of eloquence, if it were not overloaded with rhetorical and ical ornament. It is introduced, after mentioning the example of Ruth and Naomi ; and we quote it in the original, as a translation might give but a very imperfect idea of the merits.or defects of Madame Necker’s style.
‘Dans un temps od les meeurs étoient si simples et si pures, les femmes meme dont les vertus avoient Je plus d’éelat, snivoient cepend- ant la pente naturelle de leur siécle sans y faire époque, Mais vous, gloire de votre sex, charmante et sublime exception 4 toussesdésordres,
* Milton’s Works, vol. 7. p. 280.
1808. Mad. Necker, Reflexions sur le Divorce. AQ5
a toutes ses inconséquences, a toutes ses indépendances, 4 toutes ses fausses exaltations pour de faux devoirs, je baise les traces de vos pas ; je les couvre de fleurs jusqu’a la porte de cette prison que yos larmes vous font ouvrir chaque jour: puisse le charme de vos vertus, pareil celui, de la lyre d’Orphée, fléchir les arbitres de la mort, et présent un nouvel argument, plus touchant que tous les autres, en de Videntité des époux et deV'indissolubilite da mariage!’ p. 44, 45.
We have not observed that the defects we complain of in Ma- dame Necker’s style have prevailed to any extent in the writings of our fair countrywoman : the example is, however, « us .
we are not disposed to assign any limits to female acqui-
sitions in literature or erudition, the display of them ought to be attended with some d of caution. A woman may have read some translations of classics, with the profound notes of Madam Dacier, or even construed part of Virgil in the original, cag being pa to afford rag instruction “Ke. world. “She may be a sort of prodigy in her own circle, wit having acqui- sitions beyond those of a boy of sixteen. Both will be ready, upon all occasions, to name every Roman or Greek they ever heard any thing about ; but in their blind and mistaken zeal they will be apt. to praise them for those very virtues to which they have least pretensions.
Art. XXILL. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edin- burgh.. Vol. V. Partii. 1802.
aon first paper in this volume is entitled—
© Remarks on a Mixed Species of Evidence in Matters History: With an Examination of a new Historical Hy- pothesis in the Mémoires pour la Vie de Petrarque, oy e Abbé de Sade. By Alexander Frazer Tytler, Esq. F. R.S. Edin. Judge-Advocate.of North- Britain.’
Tue discovery of a new species of evidence is net.one of those every day occurrences in the literary world, which pass be- fore us witira slight notice, or without any observation. Infact, we scarcely remember, any such discovery in the mip na science, unless, the philosophy of Bacon may be ranked under this a important inventions of art—the most brilliant eee of science—the achievements of Archime- des and of Newton (hemselves—were only s i BA RO PE EE RENE FE BE ions of principles previously known indetail. So much hasbeen done, too, with the old sorts of evidence, and so great advances have been made since the logic of Bacon sueceeded that of the Schools, that
1i4
496 vere abbot PR tg Jan.
bp caren. opening this volume, and casting our eyes on the first arti- our expectations were vce to the pitch. We alanced a delighted e e over the vast space of enlarged science, which we conceived #6 now to be opened. We beheld all ob- scurity cleared up, and all doubt removed. We saw, or fancied we saw, new regions of discovery laid open to every industrious adept in this new art; and never doubted, that Mr. Tytler had fallen some commodious method for elucidating the Chi- nese n chrono’ : or, at least, for the guilt and the back of Richard, or the innocence'of ary. Amidst the vast choice of objects to which we conceived our newly acquired lantern might be directed, we were only at a loss to which it should first be turned. It is true we were soon pk cs from this reverie, by the candour and fairness of our author, who, it must be confessed, does not indulge his reader with along dream; for, in the first twelve lines, we are mortified to find, that the ‘ mixed evidence’ is only what we have hitherto been accustomed to call ptive or circumstantial proof; and that the canons, in which the description is paraded with no com- mon pomp, amount only to an indistinct and imperfect statement of those ordinary and obvious principles, which regulate the ad- mission of that most common species of evidence. ‘The mixture of fact and criticism is so far from being an original compound, that no modern historian can proceed a single page without it: it is merely arguing by conjecture, from a scanty store of facts, and setiling by criticism the admissibility of those facts.
After we had, for a moment, given way to those emotions of disappointment that so commonly fall to the lot of such re- viewers as read farther than the eeemer of books, we began to derive consolation, from. the hopes that a common tool, in the hands of a skilful workman, might | t produce a master piece ; and that much remained yet to be discovered, accessible to the kinds of evidence in general use. Again we were somewhat di int- ed, the use to which the ‘ mzxed evtdence’ has been applied is, the ascertaining that the Laura of Petrarch, was a modest maid. While we thought little of such matters, and were expecting the entrance of a grave inquirer into important affairs, there appears upon the stage a courteous knigh(+ (we use the language of his own challenge) clad in new armour, tossing down the gauntlet for re RR NEM ONE EE as to the
the joust, and ee the occasion, he gallan advances, and lifting rie om his beaver, bespeaks attention, reseed ing a miniature of his fair (but departed) mistress. He singles out
+ P. 125;
1908. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 497 a-certain diseourteous knight, clad in old clerical his 9 ted in- jured the fame of Laura—and dares him to try the proof of that new armour in which our last knight is a In humbler , the new evidence is circumstantial evidence ; and the new ase that is made of it, is to prove that Laura was not a coquette, and Petrarch not a seducer. We will not dissemble the tment which we experienc- ed, pm Ae once to the full discovery of this circum- ing ourselves to our fate, we slowly proceed- pe ore ar as me and began to wade 90 quarto of critical disquisition, yale by the most en- thusiastic admiration of the subject, both male and female, indica- tive of the same chivalrous soul which induced the enterprise, and symptomatic of rather a rancorous spirit of controversy, rate ed in obstinate attacks upon the particular principles and morals of the poor Abbé de Sade.* We acknowledge, however, that we have found the labour lighter
as we proceeded. We have been much with the acuteness
with which our author refutes the Abbé’s fanciful y pothesis.
We have nced much relaxation from the variety afforded b 7
elegant and accomplished talents; we soon recog- cpa A from whose classical acquirements we had Soquasigbelieraptaivetigionmnss and we e the virtuous which he everywhere displays, we camot sympathise in his zeal for Laura’s honour, and Petrarch’s piety. Various opinions have divided the learned world upon the sub- ject of Laura. Some have begun at the root of the matter, and her existence altogether. Among those who have most stoutly asserted her reality, some have contended that she was the virgin Mary, while others have insisted, with equal confidence, that she was not only a mere woman, but a The Abbe de Sade, cag ae Rr aTee I she was not exactly a mething between a e and an cdilivean jie set Bes Bytiocvrll nse Sieber toleenvtnce oasiaryiee and unblemished, though a clay-built virgin. For our parts we are little interested in the controversy, and shall not presume to decide it. We have derived much pleasure from reading the deli sonnets of Petrarch. If they were addressed to animage pe pr ronan a he a great should only the more ———T of that extraordinary personage, and cistataiesamanebenaty cu tion which ml ve sachan ai of ell nd ardour the n of a fictitious Laura was a cram stalioons, woshould lease th tenund/Puiseelh aruiated
’ Vide p. 154, 155, and 156.
498 ‘Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Jan.
ists; yet, though we should call down on our heads all the rem- pant in, the vials of Mr. Tytler’s. wreth (if any remains unexhaust- ed on the Abbé), we must acknowledge that we have received Uist Provided an meta pov ee mine eons a
_Provided an ancient poem contain no
ty in morals, we care very little about a TO ack cegeitante Gieten it was addressed ; and of Laura, there does not now remain a ves- tige on earth beyond the verses themselves. ‘The honour of an obscure girl, long forgetten, and, if a real person, many ages ago dead, rotten, and annihilated, appears to us one of the least interesting subjects upon which a learned Society could possibly besiow its attenion.—De gustibus, Ke.
‘ie niet artinlein the collection io—
« A Description of an Extra-Uterine Fetus. By Mr. Tho- aot teeny BS. Baehoah: Lecturer on Anatomy and Surgery, and Surgeon to the London Hospital.’
This contains a very concise and clear description (with two most excellent plates) of a singular case of conception. The sub- ject was a woman of 28 years old, who had had some full births, and several miscarriages, particularly one about five weeks before = pa me of sich teceeapealslibea
and the sensations so Se va: , that she desired her friends to have = ox alien bor dastine Emcaerealionan ail this wish, Mr. dso her and observed particularly tha here had been inthe fallopian tubes, a small formed, and with a rupture and from it. uterus was enlarged, and a quantity of jelly was found extending from the os uteri. The embryo had rested in the fallopian tube, instead of passing i
‘This nnteresting articleia followed by.a Meteorological Abstract for the years 1792, 1798, 1799, by Prchene Paytin, gute man fully known to our readers in various branches science. Weertakncn cased the way cake slo, and we recommend the improvement to all our readers who may
1808. J'ransactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 499 hav opportunity of doing—what so maay persons do ili— socpienmunehten <b Gn eptnactnalinedil peenaataneme try.
We are next presented with a very valuable A new and ee: Spee 9 Kepler's Problem, vory, Esq.
Our scientific readers are well acquainted with the celebrated inquiry to which Kepler was led, after the discovery of the law which bears his name. Having proved that the squares of the periodic times are as the cubes of the distances, he wished to dis- cover a method of finding the true place of a t at a given time —one of the most important and general ms in Astronomy. By a short and easy process of reasoning, he reduced this question tothe solution of a transcendental problem :—to draw from a given eccentric point, in the transverse of an ellipse (or the diameter of a circle).a straight line, which shall cut the area of the curve in a given ratio; or, in the language of astronomers, ‘from the given mean anomaly, to find the anomaly of the eccentric.’
The most important preblem is evidently transcendental ; for in the first the curve in question is not quadrable ; and, in the next , admitting that it were, the solution cannot be obtained in finite terms. As the general question, for all trajec- tories, is of vast importance ; and as this paper contains a most successful application of the utmost resources of algebraic skill to the most important case of it, we shall premise a few remarks upon the » when enunciated in cases.
Let d? be the given area of any curve, which is the traj ofa
Janet or other body, or which is to be cut in the given ratioafimton.
t x and y, as usual, be the abscissa and ordinate, and c the ec- centricity of the given point, through which the radius vector is to be drawn, if the equation is taken from the centre; or if it is taken from the vertex, let c be the distance of the given point from that vertex—as the focal distance in the case of the planets or comets, (supposing the comets to revolve round the sun in pa- rabolas or eccentric ellipses, having the sun in the focus), then it may easily be foun > ‘that the following fluxional equation 2 fys+y (e—2) =-ZE— if resolved for the case of any given curve, gives a solution ofthe problem for that curve. Instead of / ¥ 2, there must be substituted the general expression forthe area found by integration ; and y must then be expressed through the whole equation in terms of 1, or x in terms of y. There will result an equation to x or to y, which, when ved, gives a solution of the~problem. '
800 Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Jan.
z Now, it is manifest, that one or both of two difficulties or im-
may occur in this investigation of the value of x. It may be impossible to exhibit / y x in finite terms; and it may be im- possible, even after finding / y x, to resolve the equation that results from substituting the value of f yz in the general equation above given. ‘Thus, if the given curve is not quadrable, the equation can never be resolved; but, although the curve is quadrable, it does not fol- low that the equation can be resolved.
In the case of the circ/e andedlipse, both these difficulties must of course concur. The value of fy in the circle being / 24/az—2, and in the ellipse /—7Vaa—a*(where « and b are the transverse and conjugate), neither of which fluents can be integrated in finite terms, the general equations become indefinite or unintegrable.
The demniscata, (a curve of the fourth order) is quadrable ; but the resolution of our general tion cannot, in this case, be performed in finite terms; it to an equation of the sixth order, very complicated and difficult*. But, if the given point is in the centre or punctum duplez of the curve, the equation is a cubic one, wanting the second term, and, of course, easily re- solved
It often happens, too, that the problem may be resolved, in general, for a curve ; but that, in one particular part of the axis,
a
* The equation is of the following form, a being the lemniscata’s semidiameter.
+ x
+6e(1—a) 2° + 9c? (1 +a? —24)—a*) 2* 1fm . (= 3m d? —6 ca? (1—a) *23 (™ m+n® é aS
+(3 a*—9c* 47 (14+4*—2 a)) 2*
+6ea*(l—ae)2 a cubocubic having all its terms (2* + 42° + Br* + Cr® + Dr? + Ex + F =0) in which A, C, and E, vanish when the centre of motion (or of the radii veetores) is in the duplex, and then the equation to z is 2* + Br*+ + Da* + F =0, reducible to the cubic 33 + Az + @=n0. So that the problem is soluble, except when the eccentricity is such that (4))" is tess than ()), the irreducible case of Cardan’s rule.
1803. ‘Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 501 the solution becomes impossible. As this is rather a singular cir- eee Le paced :
Let it be required to resolve the problem case of comets, supposing those bodies to move in parabolic orbs, The general ‘equation fora becamess V7 +36 = —° xO a cubic want-
a
ing the second term, and easily resolved. But, in certain cases, viz. when c, the distance of the point from the vertex, is less than 3dx* Ve the problem cannot be resolved ; for, inthis case, the cube of one third of the coefficient of x is less than the square of half the last term, which is the well known irreducible case of Cardan’s rule. In this case, therefore, the problem of the comet is reduced to infinite series, or to the arithmetic of sines. poll sy? agg is in the vertex of the ge angel A
problem is always resolvable, bei to the si satiation ok tke tok. and tie the tank of Oe mets which fall into the sun.
The resolvable case of the lemniscata is in the same cireum- stances, as may easily be seen by inspecting its equation. —
In substituting for / y 2, its value in our general equation, we may either give it in terms of 2, that is, of the abscissa ; or in terms of x y, that is, of the circumscribing rectangle, and neglect any farther substitution. Thence arises a different and more elegant solution of the problem, by the intersection of curve lines; for we obtain an equation to a new curve, which cuts the former in the point required. Thus, by such a process in the case of the
2 ® comet, we obtain the equation'y <7 Ss
d : Fa) e436) to a conic by- perbola. For brevity’s sake, put = $*, the equation becomes 8 2 y= ts. 30 Therefore, taking a point on the axis at the distance of
3 c beyond the given vertex (or perihelion), erect a perpendicu- lar, and between the two lines, as esas ma describe the hy- perbola « y = 3 9°, it will cut the given. trajectory in the point required : If the given point is in the perihelion, then the perry pendicular must be raised at the vertex of the The solution here given by a Jocus, is.evidently general, and mae mg But there are some instances, in which the only pratticable ones, are nevertheless attended with an impossi oo Let us take that of the /emniscata. Instead of the irresolukle equation of the sixth
-
502 Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Jan order, we obtain, by the last mentioned method, a cubic equation of this form, yey ae toa curve of the third order,
calied, if we rightly remember, prema te mens: wan meratio nro Orin a ice of te
Py ay pein cat tee thee eee @x vo “3 pig ar lige seaity GRan Me EA
a See tbas curve, asm -+ntom. In this case, no
rabolism of the h ‘can be drawn which will intersect given curve in int required ; and this is an affecting every value of c, that is, every vod
given alos a ane mag seawet ate difference on the resolution of the problem by the direct method. ‘Thus, when the va- nishes, or the given point is in the punctum duplex, the
is derived from a cubic equation equally resolvable when snags
as when @ is either 2 or 7a x _2 2
The method of resolving this intooaaiie problem by Jocz, is pb cmap aeons dou most curious propositions
and mutual relations of curve lines ; ins ore expec neo othe deve of various porisms rah gen should never have out. In order to
generalize and extend these, it is necessary that, instead of con- eoacdialhs Ga ran of lt r’s m, where an area is cut by a straight line, we consider also the far more diffi- cult problem of cutting the area of one curve by another curve, in a given ratio; and then the problem may be extended to the section, not of one curvilinear area, but of an infinite number of areas, contained between two given lines, or of the areas of all the curves of a particular kind which can be drawn between those given lines. It is easy to perceive, that the same resolution before adverted to, will not apply to those more complicated ‘ But our readers will find-a variety of examples of this species of proposition.in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal So- ciety of London for 1793, which were investigated chiefly in the manner above described. It is evident, that the application of such problems to physics, does not eed so far; for we have never yet diseovered an example of a central force acting in a eri” er
1903. ‘Transastionsof the Royal Saciety of Edinburgh. 508
The solutions which we have now described, of Kepler's prox blem, and of several problems of a more: sort, are of a
lines, or imaginary rel of known the relation required of the quantities given; they the difficulty, or simplify the relation, than remove the to
tical measurement, I€ it be to the. of the eccentric, we may indeed the solution given by Sir Isaac Newton (Principia, lib. i. prop, 31. § Schol.) or
ed at by Kepler hime. The pn
on the description a cycloid, an easy construction, s which the point is found in the intersection ofa
line with the'given trajectory. In the volumeof the Transactions for 1798, a solution is given more directly, by the intersection of a species of a cyeloid of easy description. with the given curves, any subsequent construction. But these solutions, though more ing and beautiful in » are use- lmantan ie i mn genn neste issa. Cor- songending to the anomaly sceentrite os He saapaaet >in such a manner that a comparison may be made of this line with some known measure of It becomes necessary in this case, to find a numerical valueof the quantity in question, Now, this. can only be done by a series; and the two objects in finding such a series, are, first, to give one which may be regu- lated by a si law; and, secondly, to give one which may converge rapidly, so that its denominators rapidly increasing, the quantities may soon become so small, as not to e atten- tion in our computations.
‘The approximation given by Mr. Ivory in the paper now before us, deserves the first place among those of which we are in pos- session, whether we consider its simplicity, universality, or accu- racy. The series is of easy management, applies to the most ec- centric orbits, as well as to those approaching nearer to the circle, and to all degrees of eccentricity in the given point, the centre of forees. It has the benefit, too, of a most rapid
He first gives a very simple and elegant geometricab. of approximation, by an application of the rectangular case of the general problemde inc/inationibus of the ancient geometers. But as this is by no means satisfactory to the practical calculator (for reasons before assigned), he proceedsnext to the Algebraic solution.
He begins with investigating the series for the eccentric ano- maly, when the mean anomaly is a right angle. It converges quickly, and the terms err alternately, by defects and excess, the difference growing continually less and less. ~ Our author then proceeds to the investigation of a similar se- ries, found in the same manner, for the other cases of the mean
504 Transactions of the Royal Society of Kdinburgh. Jan. . We should in vain attempt to give our readers a more
minute idea of this solution, without a detail as full as the paper now before us. We shall only note an erratum that has crept into
the twelfth article. After putting tan. A =e oe eons"
he infers that sin. <= tan. 4 x 45°, it should bein, stan. 4 x sin. 45° ' :
Our author next gives two examples of the ion of his methed to geometric problems many mary. bay aicigg one is, to bisect a given semicircular area by a chor at ang a in the circumference. The results of the series which he gives for the eceentric anomaly are as follows : ; Eecent. Anom. = 47° 4 (first value, and less than the truth.) ———_— —— = 47° 40’ 14" (second value,and greater than the truth, ) = 47°39' 12" (third value, and less than the truth). Our readers will, from this example, perceive the excellence the method ; for, whereas the first two terms differ the and third differ only by 1° 2”; or, in other
the two first trials, we come to a space of above some part of which Oe Gan eiireaen second and third trials, we obtain a of about of a , in some of which lies the re- third term of the series, n, we obtain a solution than 31” distant from the truth, and this in circum- po agpebece ‘solution of the problem—* to draw other is a solution —* to ia point in the circumference two chords which shall trisect circular area.” Here the Eccent. Anom. = 30° 33’ (first value less.) ——— = 30° 44’ 11” (second greater),
Euler's selution (Analysis, Inf. X1. 22.) differs. little more than 30" from this solution given by our author’s second term.
This imen will sufficiently shew to our readers the supe- rior of Mr. lvory’s method. Former analysts have only resolved the case wherein the eccentricity is small; his so-
abs Hf
Ad
ge ig ¢ F
ez
with extreme rapidity ; so much so, that we cousider the imation of one term sufficient for practice. He has given a table of the values of the errors (or differences) for the differ ¢
ent 8, computed in this way. He adds an Seliliomaseleaes 1682, supposed te be the same which
1808. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 505
re-appesred in 1759. His first approximation for the anomaly of the eccentric, reckoned from the aphelion (16 days 4 hours and 44' from its perihelial passage), is 173° 51’, and too small. The second approximation is 173° 54 36” ; exceeding the real eccen- tric anomaly from the perihelion by only a few seconds.
Our author conclsdes by shewing how a remedy may be dis- covered for the difficulties, Pape. uae hammers § Ame Buatn, nthe ace wher the pel tance very al
is, where the eccentric anomaly, reckoned fvom the aphelion,
is Ning tiagte sal Sse aysgedulbry! avy. ley ‘ones, which coincide in cases of great eccentri-
city, like those of the comets. We dad hare samaeioamerratum in article 17. which has crept into the left hand side of the equa-
tion: Instead of y + %=, &c. it should evidently be y + =, &e.
Theauthor will excuse such minute criticism. We address it to our readers, whom we wish to introduce to this admirable tract ;
tics : for it is scarcely necessary to add, that mathematical read- ing is no passive exercise of the mind, but requires almost as much labour as mathematical writing.
The application of our author's last correction, deduced from the of the parabolic and elliptic trajectories, to the finding of the heliocentric place, and also the heliocentric distance
of Mr. Ivory’s inquiry, because the speculations have formerly occurred in a similar te ourselves. The introduction of the ean g nw ga ive and of definite solution, so
as "8 » has always appeared to us the
surest method of rectifying the computations of the heliocentric places and distances of comets, or of ‘their eccentric anomalies and radi vectores, during the perihelial -part of their trajectories which we are permitted to contemplate. in that part, the eccentric ellipse and the parabola nearly: coincide ; and, after all, ig socnet pastaatipeesings thak ihe kingshete- dies do not move in orbits strictly We canna suficiently recommend this profound and excellent paper to our readers’ attention. Looking to the /ogicad formudas and historical demonstratzons of Mr. Tytler, the mechanical in- vestigations and military problems of Lord Ancram, we again are prs en with wonder at the singular me/ange which the Royal So- ciety has contrived to bring together. Again, turning to the sci- PAO RR eNO mar aR Hn “OU st se omma
VOL. J. NO, 2, Kk
506 Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Jan. The article which follows Il 1 ema iek atage mr
lations, op a most i of
have been admitted into this volume, partly because it. pihepee
duction of a noble anther, because great variety is
pleasinz in all works. The Glaning saree Pheri
+ Deitipittia’s een trements ig cram, Colonel 0 ; Cavalry, and F.
Cornwallis, Lat Pieter of relan in ont to Captain Taylor, Military Frys to Ais Ex- cellency. ,
Where, in the name of order, are_we got now ? colo- nels of horse—lord lieutenants—military seeret caval- Pyar sd arco We cana bo ther ~ We have nothing to do with the din of arms ; we thought of reviewing the
of a learned body of peaceful sages Bat so dazzling is a title and a command of horse, that these philosophers, on the noble and gallant inventor ge app ual gpa ste to them, and demanding admittance for energy did aan heats seem to
have answered as the philosopher of ey apm, eins a great conquer (color lard enema of tne to beat him iman-argument, ‘ What!. shall I dispute ——— opponent Who commands 100/000 soldiee?. aise ay. having been accessory, eve: indirectly, to this:s piece
authorship: we have not so much as read more of the paper than
‘arm’ in the singular to denote a piece of armour. As this comes
under our province, we must remind his , in the words of
a (a grammarian or reviewer of » we forget that:-he may raise what new recruits he pleases for his but cannot be permitted to raise a single new word.
a question with all possible deference to the or Mr. Twigg, in a fit of disinterested public spirit, had communicated to them his invention of the new breech, instead of EY A me pee gr an Ancram had clubbed his share orthography, and new words) have been publinhed inthe vole ;
ir eters Si, 8 Sater Pate.
the volume of the
abundance of matter in which we cannot feel much i
Sef es ee eae by some trash that we lament to see admitted among the
me and o wa ae uff
to atone for many ‘ Lauras ; breeches. erve some patriotic feetingsof that those witers whore we 's books in circulation for |
years } ers of an ius titution, to wee the
hay, 80 necessary a share of assistance. ‘The pape Wallace we eatnestly recommend to the at -
é
t very F . We have received the highest gratifiea- on om earl per sal of it ; Sof ockeswiodee that we have seen few itive this favourite of study ,of which we should so nth desire to be the authérs. It is impossible te give any satisfactory analysis of thia tract. The peculiar coneise- ness and compactness of the noblest science, to the grasp of which- the human powers have aspired, renders all ornament of diction
and superfluous reasoning or tion unknown, in ifs various branches. ‘To enunciate the x's itions, and to sketch a very general view of the ground over’which be carries us, must
be the neering. 2 ea all elucidation is ren- dered unnecessary by its own all improvement or a- bridgment by its own solidity and shortness.
Let a and 6 denote the heliocentric distances of any two planets from the sun, and g the angle of commmtation. in the effects of the reciprocal influence exerted by the reci gravitations of the planets on each other’s thotions, we are led to an algebraical formula (a* +6 —@ a 6 cos. 9)"; and it is required to develope, th expression, by sepotying i& inins excieg of 00-Sel- lowing structare: 4 + B cos. 9 + C cos.2 a Yate by coefficients D; E, F, &c. which are required, y cosines of aregularly increasing angle of mutation g. Now, the determin- yal ry céefficients by circles or logarithms, (or of 4 and p,
er which the rest are easily found), has hitherto defied resources of mathematical skill ; and the series used for this pur- pose have been found of the most difficult and slow convergence. Mr. Wallace here nts us with a solution, the covult of one of those happy contetvabowt, which, from their late invention, and admirable simplicity, we might be dis to ascribe to vod fertune,did we not invartably find that the lot of those only who are possessed of the powers tion~ ably required for turning them to good account. Me. Wallace’s method consists in ing the series into a fluxionary and
iparing the fluxions wi partnered See iptic arches. calculus is thus reduced to the prope between elliptic ares, and the corresponding arcs” of ‘their “ir
‘bine cic! ie 2
508 Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Jan.
Our auther first demonstrates, that 4 B bei . C)Dr He bee may be delenahs sod be checthow. Ae ney be soe as to bring their evolution home. to the rectifica- ion of elliptic arches. oer ate
He takes the case of n= ——j,,the most usual one in phy- sical astronomy, (as our readers well know); but m may any odd number, positive. or ea divided by. two, as —- 3 (another usual case in astronomy) + $, Ke. : Ti = semiperimeter of the circle whose radius is unity; ¢ ==5 @ = angle ef commutation; ¢ and } the heliocentric distances : ‘he shews that
. rs ates a i 0008.0 ve 4 =| — 2008.8) Pat B= /( p52 —2 1008-4) ;. The fiuents increasing, a8 9 incfeases from zero to'#; and e being
put = oon he deduces the following equation :
ite i 71 chee Of i saad » A apn aaplev CO ngs A circle is now taken
whose diameter is = 2; and upon this,’as @ transverse axis, an el- lipse ts described, whose eccentricity is = e. Now, at this point of the process is perceived the jet of our author's invéntion ; for the circu-
lar arch being put => the fluxion of the corresponding elliptie arch
my Vv je cos.*€ (which occurs in’ the value found for A) ;
and when @ = », that is, when the arch == the Semiperimeter, then @ . .
Se 4/1 =e cos. 3 Semiperimeter = E, and by resubstitution
*. E. icity =2+/ #5, and the’ semi- A= (Ga) Gab” > the eccentricity 7£e
. —b conjugate =
a] E’ Ta like manner, B is: found = = x A— .
te bG@ —b) *e E being the semiperimeter of a second ellipse, and its semiconjugate
et , 2 2 =4/a be a
a _ Our author next shews how the ellipses may be chosen of anY convenient eccentricity, since, i , it is not on absolute, but relative magnitudes of arcs, that this solution de He now gives the substance of his method in plain and 9 practical rules for computation, which our readers will easily de-
duce from the preceding statement. He then discusses the mode of
1808. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 509
finding a convenient rectification of elliptic arches. Euler's series pont: os 2 the powers of the semiconjugate, and answers for cases of small eccentricity : Mr. Ivory’s by the difference of the axes divided by their sum ; and this answers Swipe fad centric curves. Our author adds a new method, of infinite inge- nuity, and particularly adapted to his present purpose, from its rapid convergence in every case, and from its power of expressing the ratios of the ellipsis to their circumscribing circles. aoe concludes with an Appendix, or rather a separate valuable tract, containing the investigation of a new formula ior the rectification of all elliptic ‘arches. We shall only mention the result of this long and skilfully conducted analysis. Let the semitransverse axis = unity; ¢ == eccentricity; z = any arch
reckoned from the extremity of the axis; @=the cor,esponding arch of
= /1-—4@ I, / 1-2
Pe nee are r ey Vike.
1X f 1—e* 1+ /1—é
so on for ee» &c. Also sin. 2 9’ = sin. 2 (1+é),/ 1—e* sin. *9
7 ——_= =— ec. so on for sin. 8 g” 5 (1 +e") ¥ 1—é* sin, +,.2 2, ¢
the circumscribing circle; é=
sin. 4 o'
sin. 4g) =
sin. 16 o" » &c. ; ¢, é, &, &c. approach quickly to zero, and $, 9',.9", é&c. to a certain limit ¢. e’ eé ee’e’’
Let P= (1+e) (1+e") (1+) +, &e.; Satan’? &e. 4 8
l 1 1+" and R lly tin, 29 x me Or) sin. 4. 9”, &e.; then our author’s proposition is, the arch or Z = @ P(1—e Q) + ¢ R.
a When ¢ = a quadrant, ¢@ = -, and E being the elliptic quadrant, 2
° 20 E = - P (i—e Q), and Z = — E+R. Whence our author de-
2 *
duces Fagnant’s theorem of assignable differences, and shews the application of his formula to the demonstration of various import- ant transcendental ies of the circle and ellipse formerly known, and to the discovery of new truths of the same kind. He concludes with a numerical calculation, which exemplifies: his method of rectification, and proves at once its extreme accuracy and simplicity.
We cannot conclude, without expressing our sincere admiration of this excellent performance—excellent in every respect : and, trifling as it may appear to ee remarkable for a pure,
k 3
510 Lransactions of the Royal Sociely of Edinburgh. Jap.
cuous, and pot i style. Itisa » equal, in our Spnon to whatever . wal Cid ht glad Ue ¢ remember nothing in the works of La Grange aes tbe dows fac the Mates
80 et to tics by
all nations ; i , pai anawery pied 80 are is wanting in this us competition pa guar etad m iy a eo a such appearance
pre-eminence salem the Cnet, sm been contem- ts us—in a degree, we fear, to which we are not pasting he followed by the sympathy of all our readers. —— The last article in this volume is entitled—
* Chemical a 2 an Uncommon ies of Zeolite. By Robert Kennedy, M. D. F. R. 8. F. A. S. and Fellow of the Royal College of ' Physicians, Edinburgh.
This zeolite, found in the rocks of Edinburgh Castle, was chiefly distinguished by a phosphoric warn giving light in the dark, when gently struck or heated, lik Tremolite mention- ed in the first volume of Saussure’s lah dans les Alpes. Dr. Kennedy examined the composition of it ; and found, by various experiments which we shall not attempt to analyse, that 100 parts of the zeolite contain, of silex 51.5 ; $2; argil .5; oxyd of iron .5 ; soda, about 8,5 ; carbonic ‘acid and other valuable mat- ter 5 ; with some traces of magnesia and muriatic acid.
ne Parte but eneetont r is marked by that perspicuous
experiments, and that neat and elegant mode of con- uae mone devising chemical analysis, which so eminently dis- tinguish all the researches of this very able chemist.
NOTE TO CORRESPONDENTS,
We have to return our acknowledgments to a great number of va- luable Correspondents, some of whom will perceive, from the present Number that their hints had been anticipated. The offers of others, we are sorry to say, appear wholly unsuitable toour plan. We may
take more particular notice of some articles of correspon- dence in a future Number.
gt INDEX.”
TO
VOLUME FIRST,
EDINBURGH REVIEW.
ele
A
Aboukir, battle of, Denon’s re- flections on, 335.
Acerbi’s account of Swedish lite- rati,165—remarks on the Swe- dish government, 167—his an- presi to priests, 168-——picture of nature at the North Cape,
171. :
Africa, inland trade of, by what route carried on, 137.
Africans, cartwhip their only in- centive to work in the W. In- dia islands, 221. ;
Anniversary sermon of the Roy- al Humane Society, accident which happened to one of the Reviewers of, 113.
Anquetil’s Oupnekhat, remarks on M. 412—his version of the preface, 415—English version of ditto, 417.
Anti-contagious agents, enume- ration of, 243.
Architecture, Egyptian, charac- ters of, 341.
Armament, French, critical es- cape of, from the fleet of Lord Nelson, 333.
Army, the only sure natural de- fence of a country, 356.
Asteroids, Herschell’s definition of, 427.
Astronomy, not the best medium through. which to prove the agency of a Creator, 299—ob- scurity of its technology, 428.
Awt, condensed, supposed by Morveau the principal charac- ter of all contagious poisons, 243.
B
Balance of power, different opi- nions of politicians with regard to,345—according to one class pregnant with absurdity,346— outlines of the modern system of, ib.—partition of Polaod does not prove its inefficacy, 349--its distinguishing features, 353—whence it hasarisen,354.
Baldwin, account of his essay on the plague, 60.
Bank of England, most serious danger to which it is exposed, 193—explanation of the diffi- culties to which it was subject- ed in 1797, 197—amount of its paper circulation at differ- ent periods, 200,
Battle between the French and Mamelucs, Denon’sdescription of, 336.
Belsham, Mr. his argument, that ‘whatever is true, cannot be hurtful,’ examined, 476—his
Kk4
51g system of ethics destructive of ¢
morality, 482.
tinguished from a diseased state of the prostate gland, 470,
Blair, Dr. his character as a wri- ter of sermons, 83.
Blisters, their use in fevers, &c. 471.
e, prebable views of, in theW. Indian expedition, 22 1— consequences likely to result to Britain from its total failure, 225, from its partial success, ib, from its complete execution,ib. —re-establishment of slavery the most dangerous alternative to the British settlements, 230.
Bonnet’s Art of making Revolu- tions useful, title of, unfortu- nate, 122—bed arrangement of the work, 123—his character of Louis XVI. 125.
Bowles, Johu, Esq. a Political quack, 94—his description of Tavern Dinners, 97—his at- tachment to the British Mo- narchy, ib.
Boyd's Translation of Dante,
imens of, 310.
Bread, or the Poor, Author's professions in, 108—his mode of accounting for the late scarcity, 111.
Britain, question whether she ought to interfere in Continen- tal Polities examined, 355.
Burmans, on their Religion and literature, 30—their system of cosmography, 31. ,
Bute, Lord, anecdote of, 319— general sketch of his charac- ter, 322—extracts from a cor-
ce between him and Bubb Dodington, 320—cause of his resignation, 321.
INDEX.
Cc < Camper's Plates of Hernie, de- Bladder, stoue in, how to be dis-
scription of, 461—remarks on, 464
Canada, Fur-trade of, how car- ried on, 142.
Carbuncle (the disease) descrip- tion of, 471. :
» Mount, account of, 39. grand emmy of the Hutto- nian |, 202.
Clergy, English, why they distin- guish themselves so little in the composition of sermons, 84.
ition, summary of the laws of, 259.
Comets, Herschell’s definition of, 427.
Consommateurs par excellence, who, 101.
Constantinople, description of that city and its environs, 45.
Crisis of the Colonies, re- marks upon style of, 217 —analysis of the doctrines which the author maintains,
221 ositions maintained in Sf to ‘on to the doctrines laid down by him, 236.
Cyprus, description of, 284.
D
Dante, character of, 309.
Danton, his project to save the life of Louis XVI, 126.
Dara Shecuh, a patron of litera- ture, 412.
Denon’s Travels in Egypt, char- acter of that work, 330—The author proceeds to Rosetta with General Menou, 334— his reflexions on the battle of Aboukir, 335—sets out on an excursion into the Delta, ib. — is present ata battle with the Mamelacs, $36—visits the ru- ins of Tentira andThebes, 340.
INDEX, 518 Diabetes, remarks on, 472. Fezzan, Horneman’s account of, Dijon,airof achurchthere,con- —_132. uriéed b with putrid effluvia, Flame, colours of, explained, 458. opal gee’ the vapours of mu- Fetus extra-uterine, description atic ac of, 498.
Divina Comme of ry eed Fox, Mr. bee ee of, 327. racter 0 309—specimens France, itious jects of, Mr. Boyd —— a od checked by thei af the
. pro! oO balanci 35—the na-
ane of the cnpioltiens a- _— tural pn n of Britain, 374— gainst the revolted negroes revenue, &c. of, 394. there examined, 229—black. Freedom of will, what it implies, population of, ib. 276.
Effuvia, cunt corrected by fu- migation with muriatic acid, 238.
Egypt, modern, contrasted with Greece, 282—remarks ou,330.
Ellore, description of caves near the town of, 38.
s of, makes little
Boy British educa- tion, 85.
England, account of the system of credit and paper money es- tablished in, 187.
Enmity, national, what is found to constitute it, 373. ae
ipelas, its symptoms
— differnt in London and Edinburgh, 472. 36
Prince, sentiment of,367.
Ectdomee, remarks on a mixed species of, in matters of histo- ry, 495.
Europe, governments of, have tended towards greater free- dom and mildness since the rise of the modern commercial policy, 358—relative influence of national changes in, &c. il- lustrated, 369.
F Favier, to what he attributes the .
treaty of 1756, 377; Fever, on the treatment of, 472.
Free-Masonry, Mounier’s ac- count of, 14.
French Revolution, causes by which it was t about, 2 PD eevee gd y the influ- ence 4
Fur-trade pervert he account of, 142,
G
Gaming, vicious effects of, 87. °
Geology, Huttonian, retrospect of, 214.
Globe, its dimensions in a state of constant increase, according to the Huttonian theory, 204.
Goodwin, Dr. his doctrine of the general affections, 25.
Gout relieved by dipping the foot in olive oil, 61—Dr, Heber- den’s remarks on, 469.
Grecian islands, account of, 55.
Greece, modern, personal descrip- tion and character of a native of, 283.
H
Haram of a Tarkish officer, de- scribed, 47.
Heat, central, basis of the Hut- tonian theory, 202.
Hernia, remarks on, 473.
Herrenschwand’s address, truths he attempts to demonstrate in, 98—substance of his argu- ment, 99—-specimens of his
100-—~his system » &e. 103. ‘
estimated,
Horneman, Frederick, some ac- count of his travels, 130—his description of Siwah, 131—of Fezzan, 132.
Hunter’s, Mrs. poems, character of, 421—extracts from, 422.
Huttonian ey ee postulate u eon which its. basis 202—objections to which it is liable, ib.
I
Jesuits, remarks on their aboli- tion, 324.
Tlluminati of Germany, observa- tions on, 15—their doctrine essentially different from that of the Jacobins, 16.
Indies, West, existence of an in- dependent commonwealth in,
incompatible with the security of the other islands, 226.
Insurrections in a religious age no proof of the inefiicacy of of religion to promote a rational submission to authority, 12.
Journey, narrative of, from Agra to Ougein, 27.
Islands in the Mediterranean,
how they have probably been formed, 285.
K Kant, some particulars of his life, 255—short view of his opi- nions, 257—examimation of their truth, 264.
INDEX.
Kepler’s problem, new and uni- versal solution of, remarks on, iG DPio ivcitire: itew
ryd et) AT welt
L + stalk Lashes) actiunt of 86,
Lewis Aliquse,tneyohy 6x0 extracts from, 315. +
M Mackenzie'sV oyages, general cha- racter of, 141—division of the work, 142—~account of the fur- trade of Canada, ib. —of thena- tive inhabitants, 145—voyage down the Slave River, &c. to the Frozen Ocean, 148—voyage to the Pacific by the Tacoutehe and Unjigah rivers, 150—diffi- culties be yore 151— specimen of his style, 152. Mamelucs, a Sacconel 60—~ attack the French atEmbabey,
334, .
Mi , Earl of, his character, 326.
Materialism, belief in, its tendeu- cy detrimental to morality,478.
Mediterranean, islands in, how probably formed, 285,
Miastrelsy of the Scotish Border, remarks on, 395—of its ng cal ge 399—extracts from
Miraba, Mounier’s character , 18.
Morals, selfish system of, how unfavourable to virtue, 483. Mounier, his account of the cau-
ses which led to the French Revolution, 2—~eriticised, 6. Mourzouk, disputes about the situation of, 139. Murad Bey attacks the French under Dessaix, 336.
N Nares, Mr, specimen of his ta-
lenis indendesa metaphy>
Netenad interfersnre right. of, disputed, 37
Vations, » se enl bywhich their relative interests aye af- fected, 362...
Natural enemies and allies, what is. meant by, 373,
Necessity, unfavourable influence of the doctrine of, 480.
Necker, M. his plan of a republi-
lican government, 383—objec-
tions to, 384.
Negroes, various revolts of, in
uth America, 223—princi-
ple which keeps them in sub- ordination to the white imha- bitants examined, 224,
North Cape, picture of nature at, 174,
0
Olivier, a well known literary man, 44—embarks at Toulon for Constantinople, 45—de- scription of that city and adja- cent country, ib.—crosses the Bosphorus to Scutari, 46—vi- sits the haram of a Turkish offi- cer, 47—<description of the fil- ing off of aTurkish army, 48— account of Paswan Oglou, 49 —particulars relating to the plague, 51—Tarkish jari dence, &c. 52—-account of the Grecian islands, 55.
Opie, Mrs. remarks on her writ- ings, 113—-on her ‘ Epistle to a Friend on New Year's Day,’ 116—* Pather and Daughter,’ 118—* Dying Daughter to her Mother,’ 119—* The Mourn- er,’ ib.—‘ Negro Boy’s Tale,’ 120-——‘ Song of a Hindustani Girl,’ ib, —Stanzas written un-
Paley, Dr. his. character ad an. author, 287%
Paper-money, origin, dec. Pr "5 account of
Parliaments, insubordination of, one cause of the French Revo- lution, 2.
Perr, Dr. his Spital Sermon; 18 —extracts from, 19-—aecount of his style, 22.
Paswan Ogiou, accetat of his revolt, 49.
Peruvian bark, of its use in ine flammatory diseases, 468.
Peter the Great of Russia, his at» tempt to invert the order of succession to the throne, 360,
Peter. St. population of, 306—c er of the inhabit- ants, ib.
Petroleum wells, account of, 29.
Philosophy, in what degree res- ponsible for the French Revo- lution, 9.
Plague, analogy between it and canine madness disputed, 51— Baldwin’s account of, 60.
Planets, new, whether to be ar-
ip the same class with the bodies formerly known, 428.
Poetical extracts from—South- ey's Thalaba, 68-—Pratt's Bread, or the. Poor, 108-—~--
516 INDEX: Opie’s Poems, 116—Boyd’s » causes to which he attri- translation of the Divina Com- spain 1756, &.377.
media of Dante, 310—Min-
strelsy of the Scotish Border,
400——Hunter’s poems, 422. Poetry of the early ages, remarks 307
on, A
a. = Aare account of the i itants of, 28.
Poland, dismemberment of, when projected, 349—quoted b some as an instance of the fe. tility of the balancing system, ib.—does not prove its ineffi- cacy, 350—its state, previous to the partition, such as could by no change be rendered worse, 351.
Policy, foreign, advantages ac- cruing from the modern sys- tem of, 381.
Public credit, Herrenschwand’s scheme for ensuring the bene- fit of, 102.
R — practical doctrines of, 276. Rennel’s sermons, subjects of, 86 —extracts from, ib.—his charac- ter as a reasoner, 90. icans, French, their mo- tives for — Egypt, 332.
Scarcity, late, how.accounted for by Mr. Pratt, 111.
Scarlatina and Cynanche malig- na, modifications of the same distemper, 469.
Schirrus of the prostate gland, how to be distinguished from a stone in the bladder, 470.
Scio, character of the inhabitants of, 57.
Scotish Borderers, sketch of their character in the 16th century, 397.
Serpents, on hat ber dependence of, 29, Spain, to what ou France is to be me esc 379.
on narrative of a journey
Pasty of the present continents, how formed, 209—consolida- tion of, how effected, ib.
Stratified bodies, of what com- posed, 205.
Surya Siddhanta, on the antiqui- ty of, 42.
TF
Technology, astronomical, diffi- culty and obscurity of, 428.
Thalaba, Southey’s, remarks on the class of poems to which it belongs, 63—-singular structure of the versification, 72-sketch of the subject, 74—consists of the most wild and extravagant fictions, 75—extracts from, 76.
Thorn ‘on’s inquiry into the nature and effects of the paper credit of Great Britain, character of, . 173—bis intention in, 174— abstract of its principal con- tents, 175—specimens of his manner of reasoning, 181-185.
Transcendentalism, view of the principles of, 258.
Trinidada, impolicy of extending the system of slavery to, 231 ~—plan of colonization recom- mended for, 235.
U Vallee, M. ia, his singular sensi- bility, 92. Vedas, ‘Hinda, their high antiqui- ty, 415.
INDEX. Si?
Utility of Country Banks consi- —_ pendent commonwealth in, in- dered, specimens of that per- compatible with the security of
formance, 107. the other — 226, Ww Walls, observations on the theory Zeolite, snail of an uncommon of, 29. species of, 510, West Indies, existence of an inde-
END OF VOLUME FIRST.